


The Difference

by SilentFrenzy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Dark!Jon, F/M, Jealousy, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, OC characters, Slow Burn, his name is aemon bc i don't like how it is aegon in the show lol, i mean prob anyway lol but that's kinda subjective, jonsa, starting a whole new fic is literally the last thing i should be doing but here we are lol, targaryen rule
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentFrenzy/pseuds/SilentFrenzy
Summary: “I was not the one to strangle your brother or burn your grandfather.”“The North sees no difference.” Sansa’s glassy eyes focused and trained directly on Aemon's, her gaze becoming fiery with an intensity that threw him off before her tone dropped in temperature. “The Starks see no difference."The implication was clear and quite intentional, and the blow was all the harder in the knowledge that she took the risk to make it despite how fearful of him she was.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 395
Kudos: 671





	1. Chapter 1

Aemon Targaryen’s eyes calmly roamed the Great Hall of the castle, not finding anything worthwhile to take note of. He was not there to revel in the apparent lavish castle that he had not won - but reclaimed by right. He hummed in consideration, indifference rather. His fight to take back the throne had not been in hunger for power, but in his pride to restore the powerful impression of his family name.

“Prisoners. Who do we hold that are of value.”

He made no effort to raise his voice from its emotionless, level tone he consistently used, not bothering to look to his sworn shield as he questioned him.

"Cersei Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Joffery Baratheon, Tommon Baratheon, Margaery Tyrell, Olenna Tyrell, Willas Tyrell, Loras Tyrell, Sansa Star-”

“A Stark? Of what relation to myself?”

“Your first cousin, your grace. Your uncle Ned Stark and his wife Catelyn Stark of house Tully’s daughter.”

“And why is she here?”

Aemon turned toward his shield as his eyes continued to scan the hall, his eyes catching the slight furrow of his shield’s brow, his face suggesting he had expected Aemon to have already been told the answer. Yes, he had likely heard it, though the instances where he actually listened to the mostly useless information he was thrown, however, was scarce at best.

“She was intended to Joffery Baratheon before Ned Stark was beheaded and she was replaced with Margaery Tyrell.”

“Ah. So her loyalties lie with the false king.”

“I am not so sure about that, your grace. Based on what I’ve heard she is likely grateful for your victory.”

“And what have you heard?”

“Her former betrothed had Ned Stark beheaded, as you know, against his promises to her to show him mercy. He made her look at his severed head among other multiple forms of torment for seemingly no reason other than his own amusement. When Robb Stark was victorious he had her brought in front of the court and stripped her to have her beaten, but Tyrion Lannister came to her aid before enough injury was inflicted to the point of permanent damage aside from scars she likely has.”

Aemon was quiet for a few moments, watching his sword’s face. 

“Bring her to me.”

Aemon listened to the couple of knights near him commenting on the matter of the girl  _ not  _ being grateful for his victory based on the conflict and history between the Starks and the Targaryens. His jaw set, resentment pooling in his stomach at the thought of the girl preferring such a cruel king to him based on the North's hatred of him despite part of him being a Stark. 

No, he would never be a Stark, no one had ever or would ever allow it.

"You all act as though I'm deaf," he drawled to the men gossiping to one another, glancing up at the ceiling at the rush of apologies they responded with.

"Be fair, Aemon," his aunt scolded in a lighthearted manner as she strolled into the hall. "You know how sharp your hearing is. It is more accurate that they are acting as you though you have average hearing."

He awarded her a glance and a hum of acknowledgement, holding back the irritated breath that threatened to announce itself when she stopped before him expectantly, clearly demanding more attention than the minimal he attempted to get away with. 

"Have you settled yourself in the castle to your liking, Daenerys?"

"Not quite. Though I suppose I can't expect too much considering who had been caring for it in our family's absence.”

“Considering how difficult you are to please as well.”

She laughed quietly, her eyes still trained on him despite how his were not on her. “You may be correct, but I believe you to be the last person allowed to accuse anyone of such a thing seeing as I know no other with standards such as yours.”

“What standards.”

“Exactly my point. What standards? They are too high to see. I’d love to know them so I could work harder at meeting them in order to help you feel pleased.”

“My standards are not high, Daenerys. My standards aren’t relevant seeing as I am not seeking to be  _ pleased _ . I am tired. I did my duty, and what would please me is rest - peace and quiet.”

Which would never be possible, so yes - perhaps his standards  _ were  _ too high.

“You have done  _ one  _ of your duties. You are the king as well as a Targaryen. Your duties do not  _ end _ . The fact you are trying to avoid one of the largest -”

“Do not start with this,” he cut her off flatly.

She leaned back slightly and he saw her expression color with offense. “Do not  _ command  _ me, Aemon. I am not yours to command. I am your aunt, and -”

“Yes. My aunt. I do not wish to marry you. And yes, actually, as your king you are mine to command.”

“Targaryens have wed -”   
  


“Spare me the lesson of which I have already been taught. I am aware. It does not change what I do and don’t wish to do.”

She stepped towards him a few steps as she became hostile. “It is not about what you wish - it is about what you must. If you dare take my right -”

“Your right?” He scoffed, growing more and more impatient with her nagging and presence all together. “It is not your right to be queen. I am heir. You are not. I am king. You are not my queen. It’s quite simple, and I’m not sure how much more I can spell it out for you.”

“And this,” she hissed as she came even closer. “Is exactly why our blood should remain unmixed. Clearly tarnished Targaryen blood results in -”

He looked at her sharply, sitting up and leaning forward as he felt his eyes flash. “Think very carefully of the words you choose to say next,” he said darkly, his gaze narrowing as she attempted to appear indignant in response. “I want no conflict with you, but I will not allow such blatant disrespect.

She tried to hold onto the strong set of her face, but her drop in confidence drew her back from him slightly at his flare in temper. “And you expect me to allow it?”

“If you label my resistance towards your attempts to control me and wrap me around your finger as you have all others then yes - I do expect it.”

Her jaw clenched and her chest rose as she took in a breath, forcing herself to hold her tongue as she realized she was getting nowhere and he waited for her to slip into her normal tactics of manipulation. 

“As I said. Standards. Clearly I do not meet them." Her tone had dropped into something soft and vulnerable and her features grew insecure as she looked away from him. 

There it was. She was becoming far too predictable.

"Don't."

She shook her head while saying nothing. He refrained from rolling his eyes back into his head. 

"Any man who feels that you don't meet their standards is not worthy of you anyway, so pay me no mind," he offered her, looking to his shield returning to him.

Daenerys threw him an accusing look when the girl was announced. "Truly, Aemon? She is a prisoner. The Starks are not -"

She stopped when he looked back her coldly and he saw her grit her teeth, an odd possessive look crossing her face.

Suffocating.

He looked back to the girl, taking in her delicate yet striking features. Her gown was clearly too small, and her hair was falling out of its weakly done southern style. She was heartbreakingly gorgeous in how her pretty face wore such a sad and fearful expression. His breath caught when he saw her body tremble and he felt his face uncharacteristically soften slightly as he watched her respectfully curtsy for him.

"Why don't your clothes fit you?" Daenerys asked before he could say anything to her, frowning as she moved forward to circle the girl. "Are the Lannister seamstresses that inept or have you attempted to sew this yourself?"

"I…" The girl started nervously, though a small flash of pride crossed her eyes for a moment at the mention of her sewing. "No. The Lannisters would not let me sew, otherwise I would look much better. They would not have more gowns made for me, my lady."

"And why not?" 

"Because I… Have the b-blood of a traitor. They didn't feel I deserved new garments."

Daenerys pursed her lips, considering her words as she stepped forward and lifted a piece of the girl's hair, frowning when she flinched away from her as though she were about to be struck. The girl's face hardened slightly as Daenerys moved around her, resting a hand on her arm in her familiar patronizing manner. 

"Daenerys.  _ I  _ summoned her. Leave her to me please."

He saw her hold on the girl's arm tighten before she dropped her hand, nodding to her before stepping back. "Well, I will have to talk to you again later then I suppose," she told her with a smile before turning towards him to leave, the false warmth dropping from her eyes as she looked at him in a warning fashion. 

He ignored her and stepped down to move closer to the girl as his aunt stalked out, studying the way she nervously shuffled back before catching herself and forcing her stance still. 

"I'm not going to hurt you, my lady. I wanted to speak with you."

"Of course, your grace.. If it pleases you."

He watched her face quietly until she hesitantly lifted her eyes to meet his, taken off a bit at the brilliance of the blue of them. 

"What I've been told of the Lannisters' treatment of you was correct based on what I can see."

She immediately broke their gaze and glanced down again, her hands twisting together in front of her. "They.. were displeased with me, yes. And my family. My father.."

"Was beheaded for treason, yes. You don't have to tip-toe around the blunt matters regarding the Lannisters. Clearly they have lost and their reign has ended. You will face no punishments for speaking against them."

She nodded slowly, her head still slightly ducked and a piece of her hair fell from its southern style and over her face. He pressed his lips together at the way she was so clearly beaten down into such a fearful and nervous thing. 

"Joffrey was.. A very cruel king." She quickly tucked her hair behind her ear after giving up on trying to shakily get it back into the hairstyle.

"I have certainly heard," he murmured and his eyes became unfocused as the sudden rush of anger towards those who had wronged this girl overcame him, surprising himself with such a strong emotion. 

"I imagine you fear my family's cruelty as well, considering our history in regards to your own.”

"I am sure you will make a great king, your grace," she said softly, meeting his eyes again for a moment. "May your family's reign be long once more."

"Be sincere. I saw the touch of resentment in your eyes for Daenerys."

"That wasn't.. I'm.." She sucked in a breath, shaking her head at herself and lifting her shoulders back as she seemed to scrape for her determination. "I just don't wish to be pitied."

He leaned back a bit, assessing her face. Yes,  _ pity  _ was something that always accompanied his aunt's patronizing wasn't it?

"I understand, though you must be careful of the expressions you wear. Especially of who you wear them for.”

“I apologize, your grace. Forgive me,” she said quickly.

He held back a sigh, rubbing his teeth together at the way he instantly softened so drastically before this girl he didn’t know - the enemy. 

No. A young girl, victim of circumstance, was not his  _ enemy _ . Ridiculous. He wouldn’t allow himself to think as his aunt. 

“You are my prisoner. With that considered as well as your house I recognize that your loyalties, despite the mistreatment you’ve received, are likely to lie with the Lannisters.”

She said nothing in response and he was annoyed at the small sting that inflicted upon him. 

An idiot he was - wishing for a Stark’s approval that he would never receive.

“Am I correct? Speak freely. I will not punish you for doing so.”

“My loyalties lie with the North, your grace. The North is currently independent.”

“They named themselves independent under the Lannister’s rule. They were not under our rule.”

“They will not accept your rule again.”

“They don’t get to choose,” Aemon replied, hardening slightly in his offense.

“You ask me of my loyalties to the Lannisters with the intention, I assume, of learning whether or not I’ll bow to you. But it does not matter, as you won’t let me choose either. Though I would advise against strangling me as you did my uncle or burning me alive as you did my grandfather seeing as I am the only known remaining Stark and the only slim chance at you having the slightest amount of control over the North. It is why the Lannisters kept me alive and under their watch - they needed me as one of their pawns. You want to know my loyalties to you in comparison to the Lannisters, your grace, and though the Lannisters  _ destroyed  _ anything and everything I was and slaughtered my family they did not take everything. They did not have the power to take everything as you do. And you will take it because the North  _ does _ have a choice, and they will choose death. Then my home and people will be taken from me, and I will choose death as well.”

“I was not the one to strangle your brother or burn your grandfather.”

“The North sees no difference.” Sansa’s glassy eyes focused and trained directly on Aemon's, her gaze becoming fiery with an intensity that threw him off before her tone dropped in temperature. “The  _ Starks  _ see no difference.”

The implication was clear and quite intentional, and the blow was all the harder in the knowledge that she took the risk to make it despite how fearful of him she was.

“Set her up with her own chambers, Dareth. And fetch a seamstress,” he said to his shield after a long while of staring back at her while he steadied his breath from his unavoidable reaction to his rejection. “Closer to my own.  _ Away  _ from Daenerys.”

Sansa blinked in slight surprise before a knowing look coupled with cold humor ghosted her features. “Thank you, your grace.”

He tipped his head forward in acknowledgment before turning from her to busy himself with his guard, needing a distraction from the spinning of his head. 

A distraction from his sudden and bizarre determination to make the girl see a difference.


	2. Chapter 2

"How is she."

"Who, your grace?"

Aemon gave his shield a look who bowed his head in response. There had only been one prisoner Aemon had allowed into the castle, and it was unlikely for him to ask of his aunt seeing as she would tell him herself whether or not he requested the information.

"Lady Stark is well as far as I know, though she does not leave her chambers."

"Have you assigned her a handmaiden?" 

"... No."

Aemon sighed. "Dareth. Assign Lady Stark a handmaiden."

"Of course, your grace, though she does not seem keen to having one."

Surely the girl got lonely, isolating herself would slowly drive her mad with the wounds that had been inflicted on her sanity already. He had duties to distract himself from the emptiness he often had threatening to consume him. She had nothing to distract herself with, and she had far worse than only emptiness to worry about consuming her when she was alone.

"I'm sure she isn't, and I expect her to be stubborn about it as well. Assign her one all the same. A quiet one that Daenerys has not already spent a lot of time with. I don't need her to have a way of spying on the girl or whatever else she may try to pull. At any moment she will find out about the girl and will be throwing a fit - especially when she learns I will not allow her to make the girl another one of her personal female pets that trail after her all day."

"I will speak with Lady Erena and ask her if she knows of one available. Lady Erena is the least close female to Daenerys of all the women among our own."

Aemon nodded, running his tongue along the ends of his teeth. "And the knight at her door?" His eyes narrowed slightly when he saw his shield hesitate. "She  _ has  _ a knight at her door, does she not?"

"Of course, your grace!" His shield said quickly, clearing his throat. "I assumed you'd like her warmed up to the new rule as quickly as possible, so I figured -"

"Who, Dareth.”

"Ser Faeron."

"No."

"Now, your grace," his shield started and Aemon's eyes narrowed even further at his gentle tone, speaking as though he was reasoning with a small child. "He is Lady Erena's nephew, and he is not shy of making his aversion to your aunt clear."

"Yes. Meaning he's insolent," he nearly growled, thinking of the infuriating idiot. "Find her a different knight."

"Meaning he is not partial to Lady Daenerys as practically all of the other knights are. You wish to keep Lady Sansa out of her reach, yes?"

Aemon hummed, inhaling deeply and thrumming his fingers against his leg as he hesitated on his rejection of the knight. 

"And we'd like her to warm up to her situation and gain more of her trust, and I have never seen any female not take a liking to Faeron, short of your aunt. Sansa is a young girl who, according to more of what I have head of her, loved songs and stories and everything of the sort."

Exactly. The fool somehow seemed to nearly rival Daenerys in his talents of charming his way through everything in life no matter how inappropriate he behaved. 

"Faeron certainly is no noble hero from a romance story if that's what you're trying to appease her with."

But Aemon did want Sansa to be more comfortable, and though he couldn’t stand Faeron he knew the fact that he was much less  _ formal _ than the average knight would likely help the girl relax a bit.

"No, but he is charming and humorous." He ignored Aemon's loud snort at his claim of the idiot being at all funny. “Not to mention he's arguably the best young fight-"

“Fine. Let her have him then, but I won't tolerate him crossing the line with her. You’d do well to tell him as much," he said shortly, resenting his agreement as soon as the words left his lips.

"I've come to find out a few interesting things as of late, Aemon," Daenerys made herself known as his shield quietly excused himself to follow his orders.

His eyelids drooped at his aunt's false curious tone, looking around the hall for an idea of what he could busy himself with to avoid her. 

"Lovely to hear that, Daenerys. Life is never enjoyable when it gets too dull, and you deserve only the best life has to offer."

She gave a small sarcastic laugh as she stopped in front of him, her eyes moving down his body to assess him as they always did. 

Sizing up the property she wished to own.

"I've found that one of our very important prisoners has found herself with her own chambers..  _ Days  _ ago. Yet I have only just found this out."

"How far are we from the climax of this tale because I am failing to find the interesting bits, and as much as I love an exciting story - I have responsibilities to tend to," he told her, looking up at her as she was suddenly standing almost over him where he sat, grating on his nerves even further. 

"And it comes across as oddly intentional that her chambers ended up being quite close to yours, yet curiously appear to be almost as far from mine as possible," she continued, ignoring him.

"It seems this is a chapter story. Shall we read chapter two another time? Because, as I said, I -” 

“And come to find out, Aemon, the night guarding her door happens to be the same knight who has no business being one considering he has little respect for the Targaryens, specifically myself,” she said, her tone growing more accusing as she stepped in front of him when he stood and attempted to walk by her. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say said prisoner was being  _ intentionally  _ kept from me.”

“Wow. Nothing gets past you, now does it?” He asked her dully, stepping around her and heading towards the large doors of the hall. 

“I don’t understand, Aemon,” she said in exasperation. “Why are you so opposed to me coming anywhere near her?! You  _ know  _ I wouldn’t hurt her. She’s just a girl.”

Of course she had a hard time understanding when she wasn't given her way. It's what she had come to expect, and when she didn't get as much she didn't know how to handle it. 

“Don’t act as though you are much older. Yes, I know it is unlikely you would hurt her, but I do not need you sinking your claws into my cousin and turning her into one of your doting flock of admirers."

“Your cousin, is she?” She asked, her voice completely changing into something dark and challenging. “And have you referred to yourself as  _ her cousin  _ in front of her face? No, you haven’t, because you know she’d spit at the very idea. She’d have you killed if she had the chance, especially if she knew you were walking around claiming yourself as her family.”

He grit his teeth as he felt himself grow cold, not replying as he continued forward and held onto his temper. He had no rebuttal as he did not doubt she was correct, and for some reason he seemed to care a great deal. 

“You will never have any relation to the Starks, and the fact you are trying to claim as much is a disgusting insult to our family. They are our enemy. They reject the crown. My father -"

“Our family? It seems you’re quite selective of when you choose to award me a full position into this family. Of course you are, you only say and do things that suit your interests at whatever point in time you are saying or doing them. You live for you. I live for the realm and for those who are of my own. That is the difference, and that difference is why I will never make you my queen." He paused at the exit of the hall to turn to her and regard her coldly, meeting her both furious and wounded eyes. "You don't have to understand, Daenerys. You just have to obey."

* * *

Sansa traced her finger along the wood of the vanity, counting the ridges and lines of it as she drifted in among her thoughts. Furniture had already been changed in the castle, at least in her chambers. There couldn't have been time to change all of them  _ this  _ quickly - leading Sansa to believe even more so she was given a particularly lavish room apart from that already being evident in the size and qualities. She was surprised at how they seemed to want to change it so much so that they were remarkably quick to get rid of anything that even somewhat suggested the previous crown members. Admittedly she preferred the new decorative style and appreciated the change in the colors she was used to. Much deeper of colors, darker overall entirely with more accented features and even finer craftsmanship. The new tones were somehow more calming than the light and blended colors of golds she had grown so used to in her time of suffering there. She couldn't tell if she truly preferred the tone of colors, or if it was merely that the colors she had become accustomed to were now haunted and she was pleased to be rid of them. 

She supposed the Targaryens, if the stories and songs she remembered were even remotely of good representation, had the flare to them that made it clear they were one of the houses that were concerned with how much of a truly romanticized house they were. A house that exceptionally  _ stood out  _ as well. She could see that Daenerys Targaryen at least had that quality to her.

She did not know about Aemon. 

He had been dressed in the true Targaryen fashion, but not quite as decorated as Daenerys, and the way he held himself was not nearly as ostentatious as the Targaryens were known for. That and, of course, he did not have the famous silver hair or was as feminine in appearance but instead had dark, curly hair and a much more traditionally masculine way about him. His eyes had seemed a deep grey at first, but on further inspection she found a touch of violet flecks in them, but they were still not nearly as pronounced in purple shade than the color they were said to have as well as Daenerys that she had actually seen to compare. 

But he was not purely Targaryen, now was he?

Half of him was from as far of a difference as a northern house,  _ her  _ northern house. Northerners weren't known for certain standout features like the Targaryens or Lannisters. Still, unfortunately for her, he was still devastatingly appealing in appearance. She imagined women would fall to his feet even quicker than they would Jaime Lannister.

She tasted bitterness on her tongue at the way she remembered his regretful ties to her and the way her heart had lurched when, at first glance, she was alarmed at seeing so much familiarance of a man to her father. A Targaryen conqueror had no right to even a drop of Stark blood. Not that his apparent claims to her house held any true meaning - he was  _ not  _ a Stark and never would be. It was quite clear in the identity he chose for himself, the true Targaryen way through and through. 

She looked up at herself in the mirror and stared at her exposed shoulders and collarbones as the dress that had been made for her was so much more revealing and had much thinner fabric than what she was used to. She glanced towards the even more revealing gowns on her bed that had completely open backs and long slits in them, some going as far as exposing one's midsection in small parts. 

She would certainly not be touching those.

Admittedly it felt amazing to be free of such tight fabric as well as amazing to be relieved of the usual heaviness of her garments in the warm weather.

“Lady Stark, now I  _ know  _ you have to be getting at least a  _ fraction  _ of how bored I am right now in there.”   
  


Sansa started at the sound of the knight outside of her door, blinking in slight wonder as she calmed herself. Her assigned  _ knight  _ was speaking out in such a way?

Well, she supposed she would not be given a particularly  _ good  _ night seeing as she was only a prisoner. 

She  _ was _ bored. Terribly so. And she needed someone to speak to, but she did  _ not  _ want to start getting comfortable with the new occupants of the castle. She was too naive, too trusting. She was tired of trusting people and becoming their "friend” only to be hurt. 

But she needed to be aware of her surroundings, and she needed to know the new dynamics of King’s Landing.

"And there she is! And I was under the impression you would take so much more convincing!"

"I… have forgotten your name, ser," she said quietly, pulling the fabric of her dress she was wearing more over her chest, though it did little good. 

"Faeron, my lady." He bowed his head respectfully before smiling at her with glittering eyes of amusement. "Glad to finally see your face, as I can see I was definitely missing out. Decided you wanted human contact again?"

She scowled at him while taking him in, biting her tongue as she annoyed herself for noting how attractive the tall, lean man was. Not in a traditional handsome knight way, but a devious and, like everything else had become, dark way. He also wore no bulky armour and she could see the defined muscles of his bare arms. Her eyes caught on the three knives positioned on his right hip in addition to his sword on his other side curiously.

And to think she used to gush over blonde, gallant knights when this man and the new king existed, both with dark hair and dark in demeanor, and she was beginning to notice a theme in this “dark” she was noticing, the dark that didn't match that of the North's. 

Sex appeal.

"I suppose," she murmured, ducking her head as she smoothed her hands over her dress, scolding herself for thinking of the Targaryen king in such a way. 

Her family would be disappointed in her enough as it was without her  _ lusting  _ after the enemy.

"Good to hear it! Now, I've no idea how to get anywhere around here. I'm so lucky to have such a lovely lady with me to give me a tour."

She squinted at him, unable to control her reaction to his behavior as a knight. "Is that what a proper knight would have me do, ser?"

"Not at all, but thankfully for you I'm not one, and thankfully for me everyone loves me so I get away with it."

"Very humble..." She trailed off, unsure of how to behave in response.

"Not even a little bit."

He winked at her and offered her his arm and she hesitated for a moment before taking it, still a bit dumbfounded by him.

"No need to be self conscious," he told her, nodding towards how she kept fussing slightly with her dress. "I didn't see you before, but I've seen the styles you must have been wearing and I would bet that this suits you far, far better. They were all much too hot anyway. You look good dressed as us."

_ Dressed as us. _

Yes. Another costume for her to parade around in as she pretended her true heritage away.

A heritage she had no right to anymore really, so she supposed it was appropriate. 

She thanked him politely and ignored the touch of heat in her cheeks. "Well. I'd imagine they wouldn't give a prisoner one of the best knights available." She bit her lip gently at her boldness. She never usually made such comments.

"Hate to tell you this, my lady, but you're wrong. Seems the king has a particular liking for you."

Sansa frowned, wrapping her fingers properly around his arm as she let him lead her from halls. "What other prisoners have been moved from the cells?"

"None," he said simply. "You're the only one."

"What?" She looked up at him. "Truly?"

"Truly," he confirmed before grinning down at her. "Surprised? You're a Stark, my Lady. Not to mention how gorgeous you are. You're clearly very valuable to him. You should know merely by the particular chambers he has placed you in. Members of the high court have less luxurious chambers than you. I suppose you  _ are  _ his cousin, though most people forget that."

"I am  _ not  _ his cousin," she said reflexively, her voice becoming chillingly cold as the thought offended her. "He is in no way a part of the Starks in any sense at all."

He shrugged, unfazed by the change in her mood. "Seems he feels differently."

"It doesn't matter how he feels," she muttered to herself before her eyes widened and she felt her hand squeeze slightly around his arm in her nerves. "I'm sorry. I mean no disrespect towards the king. I-"

"Relax. I won't tattle on you. The king doesn't particularly favor me much anyway."

Sansa inhaled deeply, shading her eyes with her hand and squinting once they found their way outside, turning her head down towards her knight as she was not used to the brightness after staying in her chambers for the length of time she had.

“Ah. That, my lady, would be sunlight. Alarming at first, I know. But you’ll get used to it. It’s quite beneficial, really. Feels nice as well.”

“Thank you for the lesson, ser. I had no idea the source of what was blinding me."

“You’re very welcome, Lady Sansa. Anytime you need my wisdom just let me know. I’ll be here.”

"So if I am wrong about him not giving me the best knights available, then why do you say he doesn't like you?"

"Because he is one of the few who doesn't, and Dareth was the first to assign me as your sword, and the king's shield can convince him of anything. Though I will admit - I am  _ quite  _ impressed he pulled  _ this  _ one off," he chuckled in a knowing, appreciative way. "He may not favor me personally, but that doesn't change my ability to protect you. That and he isn't  _ as  _ keen on burning anyone who slightly get on his nerves from time to time alive as other Targaryens, or else I would have been fucked a long time ago.”

“So I will have the same knight at my door every day?"

“Why? Want me replaced?” He tsked in played up disappointment, frowning as he lifted a hand to his chest. “And I thought we were hitting it off so well.”

“Of course not, ser. Worried, rather. I would hate to see even a day without you.”

“There you go," he said in a praising manner, looking down to smirk at her before shaking his head. "Don't you worry, as far as I know you're stuck with me, and I'm your new sword. Of course I have to sleep and eat occasionally, but I believe Dareth himself will switch out with me as the king has added a few more alternating knights than usual to make up for his absence. It seems the king wants to keep you away from Lady Daenerys as much as possible. Especially considering the evidence that apparently you're receiving one of my  _ aunt's  _ handmaidens. He is most certainly taking precautions."

She shook her head, dread slowly climbing up her throat. “Why? Is she going to try and have something done to me?”

Perfect. Another Cersei.   
  


“Nothing like that. She puppets things in her own way. She likely would just try to ‘take you under her wing’ of sorts. People love her. She’d want you to love her all the same. Especially seeing as the king seems to find you important. Actually, she may become a  _ bit  _ nasty with you should you come to seem even more important to him than you do now, but I wouldn't worry too much yet."

“And why does she care if he finds me important?”   
  


He shrugged again. “Jealousy. She’s an envious creature of the few things she cannot have. Then again, she’s a Targaryen, so what can you expect?"

“Why would she be jealous?” 

“She doesn’t like when she isn’t the top priority in everyone’s eyes, and she’s certainly isn't the top priority in the king’s. Now that you’ve come along and the king is showing a bit of interest in another human being for once she’s definitely got to be going mad.”

“He is ‘showing interest’ in me because of the North. Just the same as everyone else - that’s all I am to everyone. A key to the North."

“That too. She wants to marry the king, and you coming along and being a possibility doesn’t help either. But I do not think that’s his main motive for wanting you taken care of as of right this moment. From what I can tell based on from my accumulated knowledge and observations of the king's behavior over the years at least."

She stopped walking suddenly, feeling as though she had just been thrown into a frozen lake that still had a layer of ice she had to shatter with her body first. “What? A…  _ possibility _ ?”

No. Not again, not so soon. Not him. Not a  _ Targaryen king  _ of all men.

How much lower could she go? The shame she seemed to keep bringing onto her family was suffocating her. She couldn't shake the mental sensation of a man's fist tightening around her neck and she almost reached up to check if it truly was there.

“Yes. A possibility, my lady,” he said, stopping with her to look down at her with a patient expression. “At least in her eyes. The king does not seem as preoccupied with the idea of marriage as his aunt does."

"I -" She cut herself off abruptly as she remembered her company. She had already been speaking much too comfortably around him. Why had she been doing that? She thought herself less of an idiot than before! "Would be honored to marry a great man such as the king."

He rolled his eyes. "Right." He shook his head quickly while raising his eyebrows when she tried to protest at his sarcasm. "No, no, I believe you, my lady. Entirely. No worries."

In translation - no, he did not believe her at all whatsoever, and no, she was not at all less of an idiot than she was before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if these first few chapters are particularly dull with the short interactions and quick blurbs of scenes - just gotta lay down some ground work first! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, it helps my motivation significantly. 
> 
> Quick extra note - please excuse the errors I'm sure to make, as I've little time to actual edit after typing so yikes!

Sansa spent most of her time with Faeron, enjoying simply walking and talking with him. Asked him questions and listened to his answers, rather. Luckily he was especially good at talking, so while she didn’t feel up to talking much herself - she certainly had someone to listen to, which had made her days much better than the days she had spent in lonely silence in her chambers. She was beginning to learn quickly the basics of the new dynamics of the houses and expectations of them around her and it significantly helped her feel less lost than before. She still had no idea where the dragons were, and she knew there _were_ dragons, but she also knew they wouldn’t fully be real to her until she saw them for herself. 

"Ser Faeron. Lady Sansa."

Sansa's breath stopped in her throat at Lady Daenerys's voice, looking up to her sword and waiting for him to look to the king's aunt before she did herself.

"Lady Daenerys," he said, bowing his head in respect, though Sansa noted how much more stiff and automatic it seemed in comparison to when he had greeted her.

"Please excuse Lady Sansa and I, I'd like some time with her to get properly acquainted."

"Terribly sorry, my lady, but my orders are to stay with Lady Sansa," he answered automatically, not sounding at all sorry as he claimed.

Daenerys's eyes narrowed on him. "And I am aunt of the king; Daenerys _Targaryen_. I am pardoned from such orders."

"I'm afraid not, my lady. I have direct orders from his grace to stay with her even in your company."

Sansa averted her eyes from Daenerys's angry ones, anxiety instantly smothering her as she immediately thought back to Cersei. She prayed desperately that Daenerys would not get her way and that Faeron would not leave her alone with her. He had claimed she wasn't out to harm her, but he had _also_ claimed that she had the potential to get to such a point depending on the king's level of interest.

Faeron shifted closer to her slightly in an obscure show of comfort when she unintentionally squeezed his arm. She felt incredibly stupid for being so scared, but she wanted to vomit at the familiar anxieties she had held for the Lannisters that this woman triggered in her. 

“Well. I suppose I will have to have you for tea quite soon instead, won’t I? I prefer to not walk with personal knights in such a way - far too close for my tastes. Makes me feel somewhat claustrophobic. At least while seated even swords will have to keep to their corners.”

Daenerys smiled at her and moved forward to kiss her cheeks, ignoring Faeron’s closeness and the fact he didn’t move even an inch when she made the contact. She frowned and pulled back only a fraction to cup Sansa’s cheek, the skin of her hand soft just as Sansa would expect it to be - Daenerys was absurdly perfect.

“I am so sorry you’ve suffered so much pain here that you’re practically afraid of your own shadow. You will never be treated in such a way by a Targaryen’s hand. I am not Cersei Lannister, I can assure you of that, sweet girl.”

Her eyes were sincere and sympathetic, but the small flash in them that Sansa had seen in Cersei’s own was enough to remind her that her intentions were not entirely pure. 

She may not be Cersei or even remotely as evil as her, but somehow that terrified Sansa more. At least Cersei _knew_ she was cruel. Daenerys seemed completely blind to any faults she may have. 

Daenerys looked to Faeron without the warmth she had been offering Sansa before giving her a final reassuring smile and releasing her face to step back. 

“I will speak with you very soon, Lady Sansa,” she told her with the enthusiasm that reminded her of Margaery.

Faeron turned her body towards him gently but firmly by her arm once she was gone, kneeling enough to look to her at eye-level. 

"Listen to me. I'm ordered to cut down anyone who tries to harm you even in the slightest. _Anyone,_ Sansa. That includes Lady Daenerys."

Sansa felt a tremble roll through her body despite herself. She bit her lip and looked down while nodding quickly, her breath catching at the sound of her name being used so informally by him.

"I know you have no reason to believe me - but I will always be honest with you, whether it's good news or bad news. And you know that because I've told you things that would completely fuck me over if you decided to expose me for informing you of them." He rubbed her arm for a moment while she collected herself. "And I am being honest when I tell you I will not let her touch you. Well, aside from her _motherly_ touches. That I can’t do much about unless I get further direction."

"I've been told similarly before," she said quietly, closing her eyes as she became more and more frustrated with herself for the uncontrollable anxiety that crippled her. 

"I know you have," he murmured, taking her hand and kissing it before standing straight, the lighthearted expression he usually wore filling his features once more. "Just not by me."

She only nodded again numbly and let him escort her back to her chambers as she requested, grateful for the silence he allowed them to walk in. He seemed to know when to turn himself off when she needed him to.

“My Lady,” her handmaiden greeted Sansa quietly as soon as she stepped through her door to pull her swiftly to sit before her vanity. “You are being summoned for dinner.”

She didn’t speak as she watched her handmaiden pull her hair from its former style that Sansa had been insisting on doing herself despite how she was horrid at replicating the same popular styles they used, for once allowing her handmaiden to do as she pleased. 

She tried to focus on her handmaiden's movements rather than her own thoughts, not bothering to ask who was summoning her. It wasn't difficult to guess.

“Thank you, Thralia,” she told her stoically when she had finished with the intricate styling of her hair before staring down at the dress she came to present her with. “Must I change?”

“My Lady…” Her handmaiden frowned, looking down at the dress in concern.

Sansa inwardly sighed. She didn’t want to put her handmaiden in distress. She had already felt sorry she had made little effort to form a relationship with her, though she tried to spend little time in her chambers since she had finally forced herself out of them days before.

Sansa stood and let her handmaiden help her into the new gown, instantly regretting her lack of protesting when she realized how much more formal as well as exposing the new one was. 

“Did the king ask for me to be dressed in such a way?”

“No, my lady, but it is more appropriate for dinner with the king. I know you have wished for comfort in your dress as of late, but… I respectfully insist on this. At least for tonight.”

Which was her handmaiden’s way of gently telling her that she had to _properly_ dress for once. Properly in terms of their style choices at least.

Sansa turned in the mirror, examining the length of her bare back, the curve of her spine. At least it wasn’t _as_ revealing as it could get with the dresses that she had been provided with, but she still felt horribly self conscious. Thankfully there were no scars to be seen from what the dress revealed. 

“Alright,” she said, mostly to herself as she nodded at her reflection. "Alright."

  
  


* * *

“Ser Faeron. You are excused until my shield brings Lady Sansa back to you.”

Sansa froze, her heart stuttering for a moment. 

Alone. With the king. _Completely_ alone.

Faeron met her eyes, offering her reassurance with his own before dipping his head to them both and exiting with impressive silence considering his character. She jumped slightly when the king moved around her to pull her chair out and she stood stiffly until he had made his way around the table to his own seat. 

"Is Ser Faeron suiting you nicely?" He asked her after she had slowly and carefully sat herself down across from him as he patiently waited for her to settle herself.

Even the food was different.

"Yes, he's a very good knight, your grace," she said softly, unable to look up at him as she fisted her dress in her adrenaline. She went to open her mouth to claim that she trusted her sword before she stopped herself, horrified with the fact that she almost truly believed such a thing.

_Already_ foolishly trusting the enemy.

He made a sort of humorless chuckle and she glanced up to catch his eye roll and sarcastic nod. "Right. I'm glad you seem comfortable with him, though I don't know about the word choice you used."

"Have I misspoke, your grace?" She frowned, worried she would get Faeron in trouble as well as herself. 

He paused for a moment before inhaling and relaxing his posture. "No, Lady Sansa. You don't have to fear speaking freely around me, and you certainly don’t have to fear it while we are eating privately together."

Well, they would surely see about that, wouldn't they?

"I have been told that before, your grace. Forgive me if I have a hard time believing you."

"Of course I can forgive you for that, my lady," he told her calmly, taking a sip from his wine.

She eyed her own for a few moments, debating, before taking it and drinking as much as she could get away with in one drink while still seeming ladylike. She could certainly do without at least a _little_ of her nerves. 

"Dareth has given you a handmaiden, yes?"

"Yes, your grace. She is lovely. The clothes and the chambers as well. Thank you for your kindness. I fear I am not worthy of it."

"I'm not a Lannister. Don't feel you have to speak to me as though I want to make sure you worship the ground I walk on every other moment. And yes, you certainly _are_ worthy."

"As your prisoner I never expected to be held so highly to the point I would be receiving such things. The other prisoners…"

"Aren't you."

"And what am I?"

He hesitated and Sansa clenched her jaw, annoyed he wouldn't even be frank about what her purpose was when she had already stated once to him that she knew what she was worth to people.

"I apologize for offending you. Though, as sorry as I am, I still will not allow you to be stuck in a cell with the Lannisters and everyone else."

"Yes, that would be a bad look, wouldn't?" she muttered quietly, drinking again.

His eyebrows came together as he looked up at her, his gaze resting on her for a while. 

"It isn't about how things _look_ , Lady Sansa."

She didn’t respond, picking up her silverware to make an attempt at eating despite the knots in her stomach. Thankfully she could feel the warmth of the wine slowly cloaking over her like a warm, comforting blanket. They ate in silence for a while, but strangely Sansa did not feel an uncomfortable pressure of being expected to fix that. If she was being honest with herself, he had quite a calming energy about him.

"I will not burn down the North."

Her fork and knife paused against her meat as she took in his words, playing them over in her head a couple of times as she thought of how to respond. 

“So you will forget about ruling them, your grace?”

“No. I rule the _seven_ kingdoms, and I intend to keep that number the same.”

“Then how do you expect to accomplish that without using your dragons to wipe out all who oppose you?”

"I do not know, but I will not do it by burning them and their homes down. Otherwise I would be left only with destroyed land and dead bodies, and I do not have any interest in that," he said firmly before his voice softened considerably. "Nor do I have any interest in taking what’s left of what you have from you.”

“Well… That is good to hear, your grace,” she said slowly, not even daring to hope for his claim to be at all truthful despite how she had never heard him speak with such emotion and kindness before.

“You don’t believe me.” It wasn’t a question, nor was it an accusation - only an observation.

“You expect me to?” She asked, the alcohol sinking into her properly by then as she lifted her eyes and waited until he looked up to meet hers. 

She held his gaze with strength then, her fear muted in that moment. She took note of his eyes as she had Daenerys’s, searching for the same traces of all those who had fooled her previously. She found none. 

No, what she found was much more painful - as the eyes that she held with her own held the same sincerity and familiarity as those of her father. Kind and thoughtful. But what was more curious was that she found the same touch of helplessness that she had found in her father’s days before his death as well. Though there was an additional searching quality to them, a quality that wasn’t at all familiar to her. No one had looked at her with an honest curiosity or yearning for more from her - not in the way he was. He looked at her as though he wanted something, but something different than what all others had wanted from her. 

She had no idea what that something was, and she couldn’t even begin to know how to help him find it, let alone know why he was expecting to find it in her. 

“No. I would never _expect_ anything from you, let alone your trust.”

She broke her eyes from him, looking at the table as she shied away from the intensity of his, the violet flecks in pools of darkness burning into her mind. She stared at the wood, exploring the details of it as though it would spell out the answers to the confusion that swarmed her thoughts at that moment. She thought to ask of her siblings who were missing, but she didn't think she could swallow more nonsense.

“But I will show you. There is not much use in me informing you of that as I know you have little reason to put any faith in my words, but I am informing you all the same.”

“Yes, your grace,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper as it was the first reply she could come up with. 

“Tomorrow I will speak to a few of the prisoners in front of the court. You will not be joining them - but will only be in attendance. I wanted to warn you before-hand and make it clear to you that you are under no scrutiny as they are.”

“Why aren’t I?”

Aemon sighed, sitting back and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Lady Sansa. I do not incriminate the Starks as I do the Lannisters. That is the only explanation I can offer you without offending you as I have before."

She did not know what he meant by that, but she chose not to question him further on it, not in her sudden apprehension for the day to come.

The silence stretched on once again and she took the time to take him in as much as she was able without being obvious about it. She noted on his features until she found herself suddenly aware of how she was dressed in front of him. She ducked her head more towards her dinner as girlish concerns found their way back to her and she was suddenly worried about whether he found her _pretty_ or not, instantly deciding against the answer being yes as she realized how inadequate she must seem. What girl would ever be pretty to anyone when Daenerys Targaryen was walking around? 

Why in seven hells was she _concerned_ with such a thing?!

She did _not_ want her appearance to matter to him at all considering Faeron's words of her possibly being an _option_ to the king for marriage, and as of that moment he did not seem preoccupied with the idea so she certainly did not want him to find her at all desirable and change that. 

But she did. And she hated herself more for it.

* * *

The next day had come much too soon, and much too soon Sansa was staring down at both Cersei Lannister and her vile son as they were thrown in front of the king.

Joffrey looked to the side at her with a mock thoughtful expression and Cersei's soon followed, both holding a cruel warning in their eyes. Expressions she had come to know much too well. 

_Agree, be a good little dove_. 

Sansa attempted to smile and give a small, breathy laugh in rehearsed agreement to whatever they were expecting her to agree and laugh with as she was unable to fully comprehend what was being said in the room beforehand.

No, she wasn’t supposed to laugh for _them_ . Not in front of the _Targaryen king._

What was meant to be one short breath of a laugh grew and quickly turned into a fit of giggles that she couldn't seem to control. She heard a rush of murmurs around her and she covered her mouth with her hand, overwhelming fear paralyzing her.

She caught the king’s face and watched him look from her to Faeron beside her. From the corner of her vision she watched him move towards her in response to the king’s look but she was unable to register that the king's expression was of concern and nothing else before her hysterical laughter began to blend into choking sobs. She glanced back to Cersei and Joffrey to find their faces fiery, the fiery that never failed to end with her in pain. She jumped with a yelp when she felt Faeron’s hand on her arm, cringing away as she waited for the blow in result of the king’s silent order at her offense. She would have been completely weeping by that point, but she was unable to pull any air into her lungs to do so. She couldn’t breathe. 

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t control herself in front of the court. She couldn’t avoid punishment. 

“Lady Sansa.” 

She choked out a whimper at Faeron’s worried voice, her eyes squeezed shut as she couldn’t help but flinch back further. 

“Ser Faeron. Escort Lady Sansa out.”

She shook her head hard, pushing herself harder desperately to gulp in breaths. She couldn’t be taken out. She didn’t want to face what happened after that. 

“No, no,” she forced out, pulling back against Faeron insistently. “Please.” She looked over to the king frantically, wiping her eyes with her wrist. “I deeply apologize. Please let me stay, your grace. I’m sorry.”

She begged him silently in her mind until she heard him retract his direction to her sword.

“Of course, your grace.” Faeron bowed his head to him before looking to Joffrey. “Though, I must threaten you, bastard. Look to Lady Sansa again and I will remove your ability to do so.” 

“You have no right to do anything to our prisoners, Ser Faeron,” Daenerys said coolly. “We need them.”

Faeron simply looked back at her with indifference while the king ignored the two altogether, and Sansa attempted to do the same as she focused on breathing correctly.

Sansa did her best to remain upright and correct her posture, not wanting to humiliate herself or the new court any more than she already had. The words still went by in a mess of sounds, all of it seeming too far away for her to hear. Faeron stayed close to her - much closer to her than usual when they were in front of others of importance when he acted more as a knight than he did when it was only the two of them. 

She suddenly picked up her name being spoken by the king in relation to the Lannisters and she immediately lifted her head to lock eyes with Joffrey, finding his eyes purely murderous. She felt her body shake again and she looked up at Faeron in her automatic fear, trying to control herself from freaking out again. His eyes were startlingly bloodthirsty and trained on the former king, a terrifying, odd humor clouding them as he slightly stepped forward.

The king stood after dismissing the meeting almost immediately, his eyes trained on the Lannisters with an unreadable expression, not looking to his aunt when she spoke to Faeron from across the hall.

“Do not dare, Ser Faeron. Escort your prisoner to her chambers and leave us,” she snapped, looking to her nephew when Faeron didn’t move with an angry, directing look.

“Ser Dareth, help Lady Sansa to her chambers or wherever she wishes to go while her sword is busy.”

King Aemon’s voice was hollow and something inhuman flashed in them when Cersei started to wildly protest, Joffrey gaping as his head moved back and forth between the king and Faeron in an almost comical way. 

Sansa only stared as the king finally turned and exited the hall, passing his angry aunt who was demanding to have her input put into consideration without looking at her. 

Before she could process her sword being replaced she felt another gentle hand on her arm, urging her back and she looked up to find the king’s shield. She shook her head a bit in slight confusion as her thoughts spun and she searched for Faeron who was somehow already all the way over to Joffrey, approaching him with a growing cold smile. 

“Come, please, my lady. I do not think you will want to watch - no matter how much you loathe the boy.”

She let him pull her away, her neck straining to keep her eyes on the scene until she couldn’t anymore, the last thing she saw being the jerk of Joffrey’s chin as Faeron forced his head back and ran the tip of one of his knives up his cheek.

“He… he is killing Joffrey?! I only thought he meant he would never bring me to another meeting again, I-”

“He is not killing him, my lady. The king needs his mouth. Quite likely needed all of him, but Aemon has his limits.”

Sansa’s eyes widened when horrible, piercing screams met her ears and Ser Dareth guided her faster away from the noise.

“Torturing and disfiguring one of the most valuable prisoners… for me… and the king allowed it.”

“I hope you are coming to terms with the fact that you are of great importance to the king.”

“Yes, because of the North, but -”

“Lady Sansa,” he cut her off kindly, an apologetic look likely due to his offense of interrupting her crossing his expression. “I apologize, but if King Aemon cared that deeply for political reasoning when it comes to his prisoners I’m sure you could assume he would not have allowed what had just happened to happen. But he did, didn’t he?”

“He’s… cutting his eyes out,” she concluded slowly, staring at the ground as her thoughts were beginning to properly catch up with her, distracted from the king’s apparent sincere care for her. “That’s so… extreme. Simply for looking at me…”

“We are not known for mercy, Lady Sansa,” he told her in a neutral tone. “Nor are we known for empty threats - especially families like King Aemon’s or Ser Faeron’s.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Lady Sansa seems to have taken to Faeron quite well,” Aemon's shield said in suggestive thoughtfulness. 

“Yes. You were right. Was that what you were waiting for?”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to boast, your grace, but yes - that is what I was hoping for.” 

“Mhm.”

Aemon stared at the blank parchment in front of him, having so very little desire to begin writing letters. He had very little desire to do anything really as of late. 

What was one to work towards once they had reached the top?

Ah, yes.  _ Remaining  _ on top. He would spend the rest of his life doing as much, and the rest of his life never achieving anything better as he had already achieved the best. 

But no, he wasn’t quite at the top yet, was he? As he still had a whole kingdom to achieve - a kingdom that would be harder than all others. 

And he wasn’t allowed to use excessive force -  _ Targaryen _ force. He had promised as much to her, and he intended to keep his word. 

He had been avoiding claiming her as a part of his own as much as possible around her. Selfishly it had been more for his own sake as he did not want to face the sting of rejection more than he had to, as merely his aunt’s  _ mention _ of it had thrown him off. Even if she wished him dead or was repulsed by the idea of their relation to each other - to him she was his cousin, and she would remain as much in his eyes. 

“I would be much more irritated by this if it wasn’t for the comfort he seems to bring her as well as the fact that, though I detest to admit this, he is more capable and dedicated to protecting her than any other knight would be. But I still do not like it, and he still needs to watch his behavior around her. And the last thing we need is for her to start liking him  _ too  _ much.”

He was grateful Faeron had been there to threaten the boy, for Aemon didn't believe he could even go near the bastard without killing him.

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be an entirely horrible idea if she did. He is one of us and from a very old and valued house, tying her to -”

“Absolutely not. Don’t be ridiculous. He already infuriates his family in that he has been refusing to marry and take his place of responsibility because he has no intention of ever committing to any real responsibility. He is not suited for a woman of such respect, especially Sansa Stark, when he has no interest in acting as a proper husband. He can't even act as a proper knight the majority of the time."

“Well. She will have to marry someone, won’t she? It is not as though the North is going to willingly trade their whole independence for us simply agreeing to give her back. She has to be tied to us.”

Yes, Aemon knew his shield knew very well of what his response would be to the suggestion of Faeron, just as he knew his shield didn’t agree with the idea himself, and Aemon did not like where he was sure this conversation was going.

“She is more than just our pawn to discuss as though all and everything she is and will ever be is solely in our hands. Especially so quickly. She is my cousin first. I want her to be comfortable first, and then we can discuss with her what she sees herself agreeing to.”

Though Aemon strongly doubted she would agree to anything unless it was due to her fear of punishment.

“You know she will never agree -”

“I do not want to overwhelm her with everything all at once. She clearly is not ready to be thrown at a man yet. You saw how she was in court. She was abused so horribly in this place that simply looking at those people threw her into an anxiety attack, not to mention her fear of  _ me  _ and how she automatically expected  _ me  _ to punish her for it. She actually believed for a moment I would have Faeron beat her. I will not immediately push her around even more. Not with how fragile she is. She is shaken and she needs to find herself. I know she has spirit to her. I have seen glimpses of it, directed towards me in anger or not."

There was certainly a beautiful fierceness in her, a fire behind her eyes that could pierce when fully ignited. Though, perhaps ice was the more appropriate description for the eyes of a wolf. 

Simply the fact that she had survived as long as she had in the conditions she had been dealt with seemingly no allies proved how she had a strong and fighting spirit. People had tried to stomp it out, but he was sure it glowed brilliantly when it was allowed. 

And he was determined to allow it.

“I understand, your grace. Of course we do not want to distress her further. She is a sweet girl, undeserving of what she has been dealt. That can clearly be seen just by looking at how fiercely protective Faeron is over her already. He has always been good at protecting as a knight, but it’s a bit personal with her. Evidently there is something about her that pulls care from those who normally don’t express much. Whether it be through Faeron’s lack of taking anything seriously or through how cold and aloof you often are. Care is a rare sight to see in either of you. Especially you.”

“This conversation seems to be growing less and less necessary with every word.”

“Obviously,” his shield started in that slow, reasoning way that Aemon couldn’t stand. “If we  _ really  _ want the ties she can offer us to the North, and if you are so concerned with her being treated a particular way as a wife, then -”

“Did you not hear everything I just said.  _ Specifically  _ the part where I mentioned how she fears me so. Not to mention all the other reasons I stated as to why dealing with such a thing at this moment would break her apart even more. I will not allow my head to go there. I am intentionally  _ not  _ thinking in that direction. Let her be and perhaps when she can enter the court without her whole body shaking as though the ground beneath her was cracking open we will touch on this subject again. Until then leave it be.” His voice was strong and final, though the thoughts swirling around his head did not obey him as his shield did, and the place in his mind regarding the girl that he had been trying to avoid pulled them towards it. 

He had tried incredibly hard not to take more note of the girl's feminine qualities that he had upon first seeing her. That was not why he had put her under care. If he allowed himself to take note of them more or consider her in such a way he knew he would instantly find himself with a problem that conflicted with the intentions he had had initially, as he knew the girl was striking, incredibly so. She was soft-spoken with a quiet elegance about her, purely feminine - an ethereal beauty.

Her delicate face broken into hysterical, choked sobs flashed in front of his eyes, her terrified glance from the false king to him, her terror only growing at the sight of him. 

He had never wanted to completely and viciously  _ slaughter  _ a person as he had then, had never felt such pure and animalistic anger. He had wanted to burn him little by little, watch him scream as he had made her until he had no breath left to produce such a sound.

And she had caught a glimpse of him in that state.

He closed his eyes, his quill still remaining poised above the untouched parchment. He didn’t know what to do with his aunt. He couldn’t stand her the majority of the time, but she was still his family, and they were still all each other had in that sense. They were what remained of the Targaryens, and though she was his aunt he was nearly a year older than her and she looked at him more as her brother, her real brothers both dead. She had been raised under the impression she would marry Viserys, and in her mind that had been what would have been the proper husband for her - but he had been poisoned by someone working under Robert Baratheon’s orders and had died choking on his own blood in her lap as she wept over him hopelessly, repeating over and over how he couldn’t leave her and how she couldn’t bear to lose another one of her family. Aemon had made himself stick closer to her after that at the feeling of deep empathy that he still held for her. 

She was completely unbearable, but she truly did not mean to be, and she tried to fill the holes she felt with admirers who “loved” her that she did not know how to truly love in return, and - as long as she kept treating everyone as her pets - she never would know. 

Her desperation to marry him and become the only thing she thought she lived for to become cloaked over her original, familial love for him that she had had before realizing more and more that she would not get what she wanted and in result would be lost in the world. She didn’t know what else to be. She only knew how to be adored and listened to. 

And he only listened less and less, favored her less and less, and that was driving her mad and in turn driving  _ him  _ mad. He had too little patience for her by that point. She was lucky he would do everything in his power to avoid marrying her - as she would be terribly unhappy with a man who did not hold even a shred of the love that those who adored held. Then again it would likely be worth it in her eyes, at least initially, as he believed that ultimately she cared for her “rightful” place as queen above all other things she _ thought _ less important.

Which, of course, being queen was not at all her rightful place, but he had been missing his first few years of life - and he was only a proven Targaryen, rather than a bastard, when they were older children. Until then, Daenerys _had_ been meant to be queen, as it was believed that his father had stolen his mother and had a bastard with her. The records had been found upon Aemon’s determination to know whether he truly belonged to a family or not, and that had immediately stolen the crown right out from under Viserys and Daenerys’s noses, and Viserys _loathed_ him for it. Aemon hadn’t ever seen such strong hatred in a man’s eyes.

It was a wonder to consider the fact that Ned Stark had been meant to keep him and hide his true identity, but Robert Baratheon came so close to discovering the fact that his friend was hiding him due to one of the women that had been present for his birth spreading her knowledge around that Ned had sent him to live under the same care as Viserys and Daenerys. Robert eventually decided that it had either been a false rumor or that he was dead. Ned could not clear any rumors of his parents due to the circumstances, and even Aemon had believed his father had taken his mother by force until he had found the proof of his legitimacy. 

Even after he had come to Westeros to take back his family’s kingdom the northerners did not seem to accept the truth of his parent’s love and still claimed her forced whether married or not. 

There was nothing he could do about that. They would never believe a Targaryen conqueror, and Ned Stark certainly wasn’t around to help him clear his father’s name.

And the remaining Stark children would  _ surely  _ be the last to believe him - he didn’t have to know where Sansa’s remaining lost siblings were to know as much. 

But he held the eldest Stark daughter as his prisoner, and the North would always believe the Starks in charge of the North, and he knew exactly what his aunt’s mind was sure to conclude very soon if it hadn't already, and what that was was precisely why he had to keep Sansa safely away from Daenerys. He didn’t know what she would do if she believed Sansa to possibly marry him. 

Daenerys wasn’t cruel by nature, only selfish and attention reliant, but he knew all too well the lengths Targaryens went to ensure their crowns. And, as she so loved to remind him, Daenerys was  _ purely  _ Targaryen. 

* * *

"Oh, you've decided to come out now, have you? Done being spooked by the big bad Ser Faeron?"

Sansa licked her lips in uncertainty as she turned to close the door to her chambers, closing it unnecessarily slowly as she was timid to face him.

"If you think I'm going to apologize for giving that bastard not even  _ half  _ of what he deserved, well, I certainly would advise against holding your breath, my lady."

She let out a small huff and turned around to face him, pressing her back against her door as she tilted her chin up while looking him up and down. 

"If I'm holding my breath then I would assume, ser, that as my sword you would have to do something about that if you fear you wouldn't give me the reason to let it out."

"Indeed," he said solemnly before taking her hand and dragging her to him. "And indeed I wouldn’t give you the reason. Do you need assistance with your breathing then? Because I will gladly offer some if that's what you need."

"Ser Faeron," she breathed out scoldingly, pushing against his chest to move him away and slip past him as she felt her face grow hot. "Behave and act as a proper knight."

"Thought I told you from the beginning I wasn't one of those, my lady,  _ luckily  _ for you. Do you recall?"

She looked over her shoulder to throw him a withering look, not slowing her pace as she waited for him to catch up with her.

"I'm not really waiting for an apology. I was just overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed," he repeated dully. "By me then? Seeing as you locked yourself away from my contact. Me being your  _ only  _ contact. Apart from your mousy little handmaiden."

"Thralia is lovely, thank you. She is certainly enough to keep me entertained without you." Sansa sniffed in a show of dramatics, holding back a smile at his authentic laugh of a response.

"Yes, can tell she's great fun."

"She is," Sansa quipped, dropping the pace of her speed so she could catch onto his arm as he approached. "Thank you for… defending me. It was very extreme, but still. Thank you."

"Extreme," he repeated. "Extreme? No, extreme is you falling into hysterical laughter before breaking down into a fit of sobs at merely a  _ glance  _ from them."

"I-I've always been a coward," she said, turning her face away from him as shame climbed its way up her chest.

Faeron stopped them both to have her face him, shaking his head. "Stop. I'm being quite serious. Never say such a thing again. And believe me when I say that I wanted to do many more  _ extreme  _ things to  _ both  _ of them after I saw the effect they had on you."

"I was being stupid!" 

“You were being instinctual! You went straight to your sense of survival and forgot all else! Meaning they beat you to that of an animal and attempted to train you in such a way!"

She winced at his wording, looking away from him. She heard him sigh and he slowly resumed their walk, being quiet for a while as she watched the ground. 

"Ser Faeron," Sansa started once the mood had shifted again, frowning at him as she noted the warmth on her unusually bare shoulders, finding herself enjoying it for once rather than being so concerned with her exposure.

Enjoying it? She was becoming less of a lady by the minute, it seemed.

"Lady Sansa," he mimicked, flicking a bug off of his shoulder while grimacing at the homes around them as they made their way down the town. The new occupants of King's Landing had no qualms in expressing their distaste for their new environment.

"I've just realized you've never told me about your house." That, and she had just remembered Dareth's words regarding his family and their lack of mercy.

And Aemon’s lack of mercy.

"You've  _ just  _ now become curious of that? And how many days have we spent  _ leisurely  _ strolling this same, awful route now?"

"I know. I don't know how I've never thought to ask before considering how many houses we've discussed."

"Perhaps I want it to remain a secret," he said, shrugging.

"Faeron," she sighed impatiently before blinking to herself in surprise at her informal use of his name.

"Say my name like that again, sweet girl. Such a pretty song it is."

"Please,” she said flatly, forcing herself not to blush at his sly tone.

Faeron rolled his eyes to the sky. "If I tell you are you going to turn into the gushing little girl who loved songs and tales again."

These people insisted on gathering as much information as possible on her, didn't they?

Sansa flushed in both embarrassment and irritation. "Are you telling me you're from a  _ famous _ house?"

"Actually, unless you  _ truly _ were passionate about such things then likely not. And perhaps the word you are looking for is  _ in _ famous."

Sansa pulled her head back and looked him up in down in slight offense. "I may not care for those things as I did as a small child, ser, but I can assure you I knew all that was there to know when I did."

"Perhaps I best not tell you then."

"Ser Faeron. I will find out either way, from you or another," she said, her face crinkling in annoyance. "And as my sword I order you to tell me."

" _ Ordering  _ me now, are we?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact. I don't do it often so I believe you're due for it."

"Lyrothis."

Sansa stopped walking and her arm was tugged slightly when he was forced to stop with her. He backed up a few steps as his eyelids drooped and he rolled his head towards her in his lack of amusement.

"You really do know your horse shit, don't you?"

"House Lyrothis of Lys? Serpent sigil?"

"The one and only, my lady."

She was struck for a moment as she sorted through her knowledge of such houses. Why had she not asked him before? Why had she not  _ thought  _ to ask him before? 

"The Targaryens  _ hate  _ House Lyrothis."

Faeron snorted loudly. "We don’t give a fuck, that I can assure you of. It doesn’t matter their feelings - they owe us for all we did to help them win their crown back.”

"And here I thought you claimed it was people's  _ love  _ for you that spared you your head for your awful behavior as a knight."

"My uncooked flesh more like it," he corrected. "And that is still true, but yes my house does help  _ a bit _ . A little disappointed in you for recognizing it the way you did. Bet you were unbearable as a child.”

“Actually, I studied all the houses I could when I was growing up. Hours. When I could have been spending time playing like my siblings. It’s very politically important to be knowledgeable on such things. Don’t belittle my knowledge. But yes, I do know some of the stories - at least bits of them from what I can remember - and yes, I was unbearable.” She shook her head as she thought over what she knew. “I really  _ would  _ have been holding my breath until death, wouldn’t I?”

“Know the words of my house too? One would think you already asked of my house from another and then researched it in order to flatter me. I feel properly wooed now.”

She scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. No, but I would say that ‘Never Sorry’ is quite the memorable house words.”

"You could just be honest and admit that we, especially me, are just all around memorable altogether."

"Your arrogance certainly is. Actually, this clearly explains your behavior. And the way you present yourself as one of the darker families like the Targaryens rather than many of the others from Essos," she said, motioning to his overall dress and demeanor. 

"Behavior? And what ever could you mean by that?"

She gave him a look before smiling to herself as she shook her head at the ground while they walked.

"See. Turning into a gushing little girl. Though you seem a bit too pleased seeing as we are hardly the heroes in tales."

Well, they weren't necessarily the villains either, but definitely not noble or selfless.

"I just find it funny how I've idolized names from those songs and stories only to have my childhood view completely destroyed by the reality of them, yet I've met someone whose name wasn't made into something it's not and I like you more than all of them."

"First of all, you don't know if it was made into something it isn't. Second of all, I know. I told you everyone loves me, you chose not to take me seriously." He looked down to smirk at her. "Third of all, by 'idolized' you mean you played a Targaryen princess in all of your pretend games."

She glared to herself, embarrassed and annoyed at the truth of his words. What a funny joke life was, playing on her for her silly dreams. 

"Your family likes Targaryen princesses too. Seeing as Ollaerion stole, what? Three of them? So sorry," she continued when he looked about to protest. " _ Charmed  _ away one out of the three Targaryen sisters that ruined the perfect match up to three Targaryen brothers, and once faced with outrage Ollaerion said, 'You're right. That was terribly unfair to the brother who is the only one without a bride.' and within only a collection of weeks the other two princesses went missing one by one. Then, in turn, Ollaerion simply claimed he was only making it fair to all of the brothers. Of course the fact that he was alluring enough to accomplish such a thing  _ and  _ have all three girls stay willingly with him after that was quite astounding. And that's when the Lyrothis house started being called the 'Snake Charmers' in addition to all else they were called," she recited.

"That's the way they spin that tale here? Huh. I like it."

"Well, what's the real story then?" She always  _ had  _ thought it quite ludicrous that one man could accomplish such an outrageous thing.

"Hm? Oh. No, that's the real story. Just assumed that since all other stories seem quite fabricated here that it wouldn't be."

"They are also told to hold true to their house sigil in  _ snakelike  _ behavior," she said dully.

"What are you saying?" He said in an exaggerated, scandalized tone. "That you don't  _ trust  _ me now?"

"And you thought that I ever did?"

"Good answer. Never trust anyone, my lady. You'll be better off for it."

Yet somehow he still remained to be the only person she trusted there,  _ stupidly  _ so.

"At least you were excused from the court nonsense today due to the lovely little scene you had with the Lannisters the last time."

"Court nonsense? What's happening? Joffrey again? What else is there to be said with him at this moment?"

"No. The Imp and the Kingslayer today. Still, the king didn't want to put you under the stress of being around the Lannisters again so soon. Though they're about to dwindle, as I'm quite sure they don't see much use in keeping the Imp for much longer and that they are treating this as a final trial of sorts. And I am also sure the Kingslayer doesn't have a chance regardless of whether or not he'd be a valuable prisoner to hold."

Sansa stared at him, panicked urgency overcoming her. She stumbled back, turning to rush towards the castle.

"It may  _ sound  _ appealing, Lady Sansa," Faeron said, catching up to her. "But no matter how much they tortured you I do not believe the girl I believe you are, or the girl who was just reprimanding me for being  _ extreme _ , would ever want to see or smell anyone being burned alive."

"We can't let Tyrion be executed, Faeron!" She said breathlessly, rushing faster despite how her already revealing dress kicked up. 

"Seven hells," he groaned. "What are you  _ talking _ about? So you plan to go running in there demanding that  _ the king  _ not execute  _ Lannisters _ , family of your old king, in front of everyone, are you? Might I offer my own idea? How about you  _ don't _ do that."

But she had to do that, just as Tyrion had demanded that a king not harm her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Eventful new chapter coming next, yes? Please excuse how I had to create a house of my own - I tried to avoid it to avoid seeming cheesy buuuut I got tired of trying to get around it while still suiting my character annnnd here we are. So forgive me! Thank you for reading and all of your amazing reviews! They help so much!


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa slipped into the great hall, stiffening when all eyes turned on her just as she locked eyes with the king.

She definitely should have planned this better.

She could hear Faeron's exhale of frustrated breath as he was forced to catch up behind her and stand by her side in the situation she had landed them in. Her adrenaline hummed in her ears and she glanced around at the others in attendance, avoiding looking directly at the prisoners before she caught the king's deep gaze again, a gaze that was more curious than anything. 

Well, she certainly hadn't expected his initial reaction to look like that. Perhaps she did have a small chance.

No, she definitely did not. 

"Why do you feel that you and your prisoner can come barging in to interrupt a trial right in the middle of it?" Daenerys demanded, shaking her head at Faeron as though she couldn't believe him to have the nerve to offend her in such a way.

Sansa backed up a couple steps to Faeron's side, her eyes still wide and on the king's.

From her peripheral vision she saw Faeron award Daenerys a dismissive glance before tipping his head towards the king. "I beg your forgiveness, your grace, but Lady Stark felt very strongly about the matters of this trial and it seems the haste made our bodies move faster than our minds."

"The prisoner feels  _ strongly  _ about a case involving fellow prisoners? To the point she feels she should be involved rather than simply viewing it and  _ not  _ interrupting the king?"

"Yes, that is indeed what I said, my Lady," Faeron said dully, not making much attempt on sounding convincingly respectful.

"What is it, Lady Sansa?" King Aemon asked her calmly before Daenerys could offer her angry response, still watching her intently.

She stopped herself from stuttering out a nervous reply, inhaling deeply to force herself together properly.

"I wanted to offer my defenses for Tyrion Lannister."

She blocked her ears from registering the rush of murmurs of offended disbelief echoing throughout the great hall. She couldn't afford to lose any of her nerve by paying them any mind.

The king blinked, shaking his head back and forth the smallest amount in his surprised confusion. 

"Sansa. Don't," Tyrion pleaded quietly from his spot beside his brother in front of the king, shackled and dirty. 

She only met his eyes for a moment before looking back to the king. 

Daenerys seemed to be lost on what she should be reacting with as well, which was Sansa was quite glad for, but the silence from the king for a few, long collection of seconds was torturous. 

The king finally broke the silence by nodding and dismissing the rest of the court, stunning her beyond comprehension for a moment as he motioned her forward with his fingers while everyone hastily cleared out.

She heard Faeron curse to himself in disbelief as he nudged her forward, following her toward the front of the hall to stand before the king and Daenerys who was throwing dumbfounded protests at her nephew.

"Enough, Daenerys," he finally responded to her, his tone low and full of warning before he turned to Sansa. "You wish to speak for Tyrion Lannister? Even with how it makes you look in your position?"

"Yes, your grace. I do," she said, her voice steady as she found it easier to be brave for someone other than herself. "He was the only Lannister that showed me mercy. Without him I would have been cut open at Joffrey's command when he had me stripped in court, and I know for certain he never respected the crown. And as my husband he-"

"Husband?” He asked, his eyes clouding. “You’re a Lannister?”

“Sansa,” Tyrion protested again. “You don’t have -”

“Be silent as your lady speaks,” Aemon nearly growled at him and Sansa nearly shivered at the sound.

Though she wasn't sure if her reaction to the sound was caused by fear or something else… Something more dangerous. Something that she should  _ not  _ be feeling in response to the enemy.

"The Lannisters forced our marriage - a marriage that Tyrion never made me consummate. When you became more and more likely to be successful they thought I would be better suited as a trading piece so they had me inspected on the assumption that the marriage was never truly final to make sure I'd be a proper virgin bride for whoever wanted me. Tyrion threatened to castrate Joffrey in front of everyone for trying to force a bedding ceremony. Joffrey wanted to have my brother's head presented to me at his wedding but Tyrion prevented that as well, despite the threat it put him under by openly disrespecting the king. Seeing as he clearly did not support Joffrey as king, I do not feel that he should be treated as the rest of the Lannisters and that his trial should be over more fair concerns.”

“You are a prisoner. Your opinions on the trials we hold are so completely irrelevant that it is a laughable insult for you to  _ interrupt us  _ in court!” Daenerys said in scoffing disbelief. 

Sansa didn’t move her eyes from the king's to look at her, and he did not look to his aunt either, searching Sansa's eyes with honest thoughtfulness. 

"I beg for your mercy on his behalf, your grace,” she said, her voice softer than before.

_ The Targaryens aren’t known for mercy. _

“Lord Tyrion’s trial will be postponed. Lady Sansa, I will speak to you later this evening to discuss the matters of which,” he announced, looking to the guards in silent direction and Tyrion was dragged from the court without hesitation as he watched Sansa with wide eyes of shock coupled with his clear thanks.

“You -”

“I will have you escorted from the court as well if you do not learn to keep your mouth shut when it’s meant to be,” Aemon snapped, turning to narrow his eyes at Daenerys who only looked away from him with an overwhelmed type of emotion as though she had no idea what to do with herself in her extreme frustration.

Sansa’s lips were parted as she stared, just as shocked as everyone else. She blinked a few times to regain her wits and bowed her head to him. “Thank you. I am truly grateful for your consideration despite how inappropriate I have behaved - particularly in court. You did not owe me your ear.”

“Yes, I did.”

Daenerys laughed without humor as she shook her head at the ceiling. Sansa almost felt bad for her. She had not seen King Aemon consider Daenerys’s input even once since she had been in their company, and she was his aunt. 

And she was  _ certainly  _ not a  _ prisoner  _ of all things as Sansa was.

“Your grace, if I may, please,” a large woman - Brienne of Tarth, Sansa recognized - took the chance to push through a couple of guards to enter the hall, the woman’s eyes landing on Jaime in concern. 

“Yes, let’s allow all interruptions today, yes?" The king said flatly. "What is it. Quickly while I’m feeling patient, which I will not be for much longer. Announce yourself.”

“Brienne of Tarth. I was Lady Catelyn Stark’s sworn shield. I -”

“Her sworn shield,” Sansa repeated slowly as she was unable to control her reaction, her voice dropping into something dark and resentful. “And where were you, her  _ sworn shield _ , when her throat was being cut open on the Lannisters’ command.”

Brienne turned her head toward her but her eyes were trained downward, a look of remorse and shame shaping her features. “I was returning Jaime Lannister back to King’s Landing on your mother’s command. She snuck him out of your brother’s camp on his promise to send you back to her in exchange for his life.”

The rage that instantly clawed up Sansa's throat stole her breath and blinded her. She moved past Brienne to whirl around and look down at Jaime who was on his knees in his shackles, her eyes fiery. 

"That's funny," she said as her voice dropped into a quiet snarl. "Because I'm still here."

Jaime watched her unflinchingly and Sansa had the uncharacteristic urge to kick him. "By the time I had returned your family had been murdered. Where was I meant to send you?"

"My home!"

"Your home is currently occupied by the Boltens, and Brienne set out to find your sister. Even so - Brienne alone would be able to do nothing about the Boltens."

"You wouldn't fulfill your vow, yet you continued to allow my treatment. You could have sent me to the Vale. You could have sent me  _ anywhere  _ but here." 

"The war was growing more and more tense. There was too much chaos everywhere. Not to mention what little control I have over Cersei and Joffrey. There was no way -"

"Yes, little control over your twin lover and indred son," she sneered. "Apparently you and your sister had never heard 'the Gods flip a coin' when it comes to such children. Or perhaps never took note of the king you're infamous for killing and  _ his  _ background."

Faeron cleared his throat obnoxiously loud but Sansa was too furious to understand why, too furious to think of anything else but the man who had failed her mother at her feet. 

"What a foolish mistake on my mother's part - to trust the Kingslayer. I suppose I can't blame her. She had been surrounded by honorable men for too long. She forgot how awful some had the capability of being."

"Honorable men like your brother? Who arrested your mother for freeing me because he refused to trade me for you? Because you meant so little to him in comparison to his desires to hold such a valuable prisoner. Your brother who disowned you under the foolish impression you were following my family and betraying your own at your own will because that was easier on his conscience for not doing more about getting you back. Unless of course he truly was just an idiot and believed you actually  _ had  _ dropped all loyalty to your family, but I can't believe him  _ quite  _ that stupid. Likely he was just disgusted that you were choosing to survive rather than going the  _ prideful  _ Stark route and openly defying everyone against your family whether it gets you killed or not. Like your father. Clearly you do have some Lannister tendencies as you aren't too stupid to not be alive right now." He tilted his head slightly, though he somehow did not look malicious or mocking. "Had your brother actually done something about his own blood being in danger, Lady Brienne would have remained by your mother's side and she wouldn't have been arrested by her own son. Perhaps things may have gone much, much differently for her and her ending. But we will never find out," he told her levelly. "At least, Lady Sansa, I am loyal and truly love my sister. So perhaps  _ that  _ was why your mother put a small amount of faith in me."

Sansa faintly registered the few tears that bad begun to silently run down her face as she could do nothing but stare at Ser Jaime until she couldn't see him anymore. She could hear nothing apart from the dull ringing sound in her ears as she stood there for what felt like several minutes.

"- ready for execution. I will be speaking to Lady Sansa alone."

"Okay, crazy. Let's go," Faeron said next to her ear, guiding her away from the scene and the court. "I really do like you, my lady. So, as much as they delight me, please keep your Targaryen insults to a minimum from now on, alright?" 

She nodded numbly, following him as she bit into her tongue and held her breath, attempting to swallow the thick and painful lump in her throat.

It shouldn't have hurt so much. She knew that's how Robb must have felt. How Arya felt, wherever she was. Bran and Rickon as well. She knew. 

So why did it feel as though Jaime had just savagely twisted the knife that had already been pushed into her chest?

King Aemon was soon joining her and dismissing Faeron as she was escorted into his quarters and she was suddenly very aware of just how awfully she had just behaved.  
  


* * *

“My apologies, your grace,” Lady Sansa struggled to get out as she furiously wiped her eyes and tried to get a hold of her emotions. “About -”

“Stop apologizing,” he said quietly, leading her to a seat and setting a cup of water in front of her. “You have done nothing that calls for it. You were angry. You should not have had to hear such claims of your brother, and I’m sure he didn’t -”

“He did,” she ground out, her eyes refilling and her tears coming down in streams. “And I knew. I knew I wasn’t a Stark to him anymore, not after the letter, but it’s so much more painful having someone else speak your own shame to you out loud, a man who isn’t even my brother claiming me disowned. A  _ Lannister _ informing me of such a thing. But I didn’t know he hated me so much that he would leave me here… That he would imprison our mother for trying to get her daughters back… We were,” she broke off as she choked on a sob. "So close as children.”

He said nothing as he allowed her to weep in front of him, clenching his jaw to keep his anger down at the sight. 

A horribly heartbreaking sight. 

“War blinds people, as well as vengeance. A war  _ based  _ on vengeance shuts down all senses all together to some. His hatred for the Lannisters and what they had done to your father was too strong to see reason when it came to you. It makes people lose their empathy and compassion - forget love in those times." He was trying to find the words to comfort her, but they burned his throat as they came out, as  _ none  _ of them came even the smallest bit close to excusing the crime. 

"Did you?" 

"I don't have anyone other than my aunt, Lady Sansa, and she was not in my way nor was she in a position such as yours. I was also never very close with her, and she was not my sister. But yes, I was quite cold during the war."

"Do you believe you would have done the same?"

He hesitated and she wiped her tears again.

"No, Lady Sansa. I would not have."

Her eyes dropped to her lap as his words seemed to only press against her wounds. He knew they would, but he wouldn’t lie, and he wouldn’t say he  _ thought  _ he wouldn’t do the same as Robb Stark had either. 

He  _ knew  _ he wouldn’t. The thought made him sick.

Especially not her, not a girl so innocent and undeserving.

"But we are not from the same family and we had different upbringings. It is not an even comparison."

"Yes. It makes it worse. Starks are so fiercely loyal to their family… To the pack. You're a Targaryen and you claim you wouldn't react in such a way. Which truly means I was no longer family to him." She watched a couple more tears drop from her eyes to hit her hands that were clasped in her lap. "But it's okay. I stopped believing myself a Stark a long time ago too.”

He closed his eyes, his own inner turmoil responding strongly to her words of being rejected by family.

“So don’t take it personally.”

“What?”

“When I said the Starks don’t see a difference. The Starks don’t see a difference between me and the Lannisters either. So pay me no mind."

He pulled back in his chair and stood to walk over to the wine, struck by her words. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, searching the wall without focus as he thought. He took a breath and poured them both a glass of wine, setting hers next to her untouched water. She quickly took it and sipped it down, attempting to appear polite by concealing how much of it she was drinking, but he could see how she clearly wanted the effects of the alcohol to hit her and aid her in her confidence to speak to him.

"Tyrion…" She started, forcing the subject change. "You wanted to discuss him."

"No. You wanted to discuss him. I wanted to execute him, but I am giving you my private attention to explain to me why I should do otherwise."

"Yes. I thank you for that. I… Gave you most of the reasons I have. He's a good man, and he stood up for me to a king - so I had to do the same. His family doesn't accept him. Cersei loathes him and plots against him. His father would have preferred him to have never been born, especially considering Joanna Lannister died giving birth to him," she rambled, inhaling deeply before reigning herself back in. "The only one he is truly close to is Ser Jaime."

"So what do you ask of me to do with him instead? The wall? He would be of no use at the wall."

"I don't know, your grace," she said quietly before closing her eyes. "I just had to try."

Aemon sighed, taking a large drink of his wine as he considered her words. The Imp  _ had  _ helped Sansa, and he didn't believe he posed much threat. 

He couldn't tell her no, and that worried him.

"I will not have him executed, Lady Sansa. At your request."

His chest tightened at the look of shock on her face that soon flooded with gratitude. Gratitude for  _ him _ . The feeling it gave him worried him as well.

"Thank you, King Aemon. Truly. I am more than grateful."

"Of course, my lady," he murmured, watching her drink more as if she was working up the courage for something else. 

He had a feeling she had another request.

"Your grace… My mother. She… possibly paid for Ser Jaime's life with her own."

"Lady Sansa," he said, his tone hardening.

"I don't ask for anything but for a real chance for him to speak his peace. Without the bias of who he killed. Because without that bias things appear a lot different when taking the circumstances into consideration." 

"He murdered -"

"In return I will marry anyone you wish, and I will do it willingly and convincingly. I will do everything in my power to gain you influence in the North."

He sat back, catching his shield shift on his feet in the distance and he looked over to meet his eyes. 

"My lady," his shield started. "This is quite the agreement you are attempting to make. You realize we could -"

"I know you could force me to marry, but it is different if I am willing and acting enthused. It is also  _ very  _ different if I intentionally  _ try  _ to gain you favor in the North. Not to mention, and no offense to either of you and your knowledge, but I am sure I know much more of Westerosi politics than either of you, and I could help and  _ would  _ help if you were to consider this. I know it makes me sound awful - bargaining for a Lannister's life like this, but I can't just let my mother's efforts be in vain. Not with what happened in result of them. And perhaps it's a silly way of thinking, but… I don't have much left to offer my family anymore. I need to take what I can get before I have no other chances at all."

"Your  _ willing  _ betrothal is quite a difficult trade for  _ two  _ Lannisters, my lady."

"Dareth," Aemon growled, his head rushing with arguing thoughts.

" _ One _ Lannister, ser," Sansa said, tilting her chin up slightly, sternly. "His grace already agreed to Lord Tyrion's pardon. As for Jaime Lannister I only ask for an unbiased trial including witnesses arguing on his behalf such as Lady Brienne."

She  _ only  _ asked for? Did she realize the significance of the  _ kingslayer _ ?

Well, yes, he supposed she did considering the significance of the offer she put on the table in her eyes.

He would need her help, and he knew she would keep her word and sincerely would help him with the North should he agree to her terms.

"I didn't want to force you to marry anyone, my lady," he said finally. 

She tilted her head to the side curiously. "Well, I appreciate that very much, your grace, but if that is the truth then this works well, doesn't it? As you will not be forcing me to marry anyone."

He watched her sweet expression of surprised interest in response to his words as though he had told her something especially kind and generous when he had informed her he had no will to force her to marry someone of his choosing.

"I know a  _ great deal  _ of politics, your grace," she urged him, leaning forward and searching his eyes. "I'm not only good for my name alone. I have knowledge as well to offer."

“I know your name is not all you’re good for,” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I never believed that. That was never why I was putting you under the best care I could manage.”

“Then why were you,” she pressed firmly, the frozen blue of her eyes relentlessly holding on to his.

“Because you’re a Stark,” he grit out, unable to avoid claiming her name out loud. “And my mother was a Stark. And you’re an innocent girl who had no place in this mess.”

“Your mother was a Stark,” she confirmed. “My father’s sister. So she would want you to consider this as well. For my mother’s sake.”

“Your mother didn’t care for his life. Your mother cared for  _ your  _ life. He didn’t save your life. He broke his oath." 

“It doesn’t matter. If he had remained their prisoner and if her shield had remained at her side then  _ perhaps _ ,” she broke off for a moment. “Perhaps things may have been different. And perhaps they may have been the same, but… they may have been different. And for that I’d like a fair trial. I care nothing for Jaime Lannister but  _ clearly  _ my mother’s sword cares for him, and my mother would not have accepted her if she did not respect her a great deal. Therefore I must as well.”

He didn’t know how to respond and he wanted to groan in aggravation at the position he was put in and how difficult it was for him to decide on what to do. He knew how it would make him look to be following a prisoner’s wishes in regards to Lannister lives, but he also knew how important what she was offering was.

How important her  _ opinion  _ of him was. 

“I will hear him speak, Lady Sansa. Fairly. But I cannot guarantee his life.”

She stared at him before covering her mouth as her face broke into a smile, hiding a small laugh as she looked down, appearing at a loss with herself.

"You are quite excited by an agreement that does nothing at all to benefit you. Actually, it does the opposite seeing as you have to make sacrifices for someone you hold no care for only for him to have another  _ chance _ at life."

"I'm excited about being listened to for once, your grace. At least  _ really  _ listened to. And maybe I'm stupid for trusting your word, the word of another king. But… I do. At least in this case, as I am asking something of you and you are not offering anything to me to bait me into agreements. And your eyes. Your eyes are honest." She nodded, though it seemed more to herself than him.

He meant to offer her a response but instead found himself distracted when his eyes trained on her mouth as her tongue poked out to lick her lips, her teeth biting into her bottom as she worried at it. 

"I am sure Lady Daenerys is especially upset with me," she started slowly, shifting in her seat. "For what I said about sibling marriages."

"Daenerys is especially upset with you, yes," he confirmed, remembering her words and the fire his aunt had had in her eyes.

Which was something to be concerned about. Especially if she heard of Sansa's bargaining terms. 

_ Especially  _ when she learned of Jaime Lannister receiving a fair trial.

"But…  _ you  _ don't seem very upset about it."

Aemon quirked a brow at her. "I'm not the one with siblings for parents, now am I?"

She blinked at him in an irritatingly adorable way. 

"But does that exclude you from the coin theory?" Her eyes widened slightly as though she had astounded herself with her own boldness.

His lips twitched as he fought a smile. "I suppose we'll find out if the coin landed in my favor, won't we?" He brought his goblet to his lips. "Or  _ your  _ favor, I suppose." He winked at her before tipping the rest of his wine back down his throat, finding her face flushed a deep scarlet when he brought his cup back down.

She opened her mouth before closing it as she looked in her lap again, her fingers twisting together before she took her own glass, looking up at him almost shyly. 

"It certainly seems as though it did so far, your grace."

Well, he was surely fucked when it came to avoiding looking at her in the way he had feared, wasn't he?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! This one is a bit longer than the other chapters of this story have been and has a lot of background information. I am incapable of making a very fast-paced romance, so apologies if this story is a bit of a burn. ;)

"Well, good morning, my lady. Pleased to see you're still alive. Especially considering the fact that  _ the kingslayer  _ was not executed as he was meant to be. I would likely rather burn  _ myself  _ alive than be in the position of one of Daenerys's knights last night."

"So she was very angry?" Sansa asked, her face falling as she stepped out of her chambers.

The halls were quiet as they usually were. Not a lot of the new residents seemed to like being inside the Red Keep for very long if they could help it. There also didn’t seem to be a lot of people living in the castle in general. Nothing seemed to be very organized yet when it came to positions and titles. There didn’t seem to be a proper Kingsguard either. The mess of everything both annoyed and satisfied Sansa. How confusing she was becoming.

"Angry? Ha! Had some choice words for the king too. He looked about ready to snap her neck. I almost thought she was about to be prepared for execution instead. Mind explaining to me what happened there? Not that I have too many complaints considering the show I was granted last night. Ah, nothing much better than a proper Targaryen fight. Especially when Lady Daenerys is under fire. But I do have a problem with the fact you made me say  _ 'I beg your forgiveness'  _ out loud in front of a room full of witnesses. I only verbally apologize when it's quite clearly insincere. Even then I avoid it because some people fail to understand the fact. Would hate for them to get the wrong impression."

She frowned and chewed her cheek at the thought of the king being  _ that  _ angry. She couldn't imagine it, and that only meant Daenerys would surely be going after her throat after that. She wondered if the king had told her it was Sansa’s responsibility for the delay. She doubted as much, seeing as he was going to the trouble of distancing her from his aunt as it was.

"He agreed to not execute Lord Tyrion. He is likely to still execute Ser Jaime, but he agreed to give him a fair trial," she told him, taking his arm as she fell into her new routine with him.

"A  _ fair trial _ ? For the  _ kingslayer _ ? You know, the man who killed the last Targaryen king? Our beloved Lady Daenerys's father and our beloved King Aemon's grandfather?"

"I know who Ser Jaime killed," she said, scowling at him. "No need to be so theatrical about everything."

"Ah ah ah. Don't be rude, my lady. Not when you almost got us both murdered yesterday. Trust me when I say that I did  _ not  _ believe the king would allow your outburst. Well, not murdered, as he wouldn’t have me murdered - but I certainly expected repercussions. I can get away with things when it is just him, but I try not to test him in front of an audience. And let's not mention how nice I am to you, gracing you with my presence and such. Could always get myself out of this and let another knight be stuck with you." He ignored her small scoff. "So let's watch the attitude. Now, tell me how you managed this. I was stunned by the mere fact the king  _ emptied  _ the court just to speak with you. Never have I ever seen him take anyone's opinions into consideration like that. He's never been cruel, but what he has been allowing and granting you is outlandish for any king - no matter if he favors you or not."

"I know. I don't know why. I am certainly grateful, but I don't know why. He says it's because I'm a Stark, but… Still - even my own family would be angry at the scene I made yesterday. I told him and Ser Dareth that I would willingly marry whoever they wished me to and that I would help them gain favor in the North in exchange."

"They're having you marry so soon?" He asked, his voice changing a bit. "You are barely getting comfortable with yourself again. Not that I have any idea when the last time you were to begin with."

She wasn’t sure she remembered when she  _ was  _ entirely comfortable with herself. It seemed so long ago that it almost felt like a dream, though she knew it wasn’t truly that long ago. Which only meant she had been especially lost. 

"Of course they are. I am incredibly useful to them in that way. I would expect nothing less. Actually, I am surprised they hadn't already approached me with it, but the king told me he didn't want to force me."

"But he will allow you to bargain yourself all the same," Faeron said flatly. "How noble. You know the kingslayer will be executed no matter what is said. You wasted your own efforts and made useless agreements."

Not entirely useless. She could test his trustworthiness and willingness to keep his ends of bargains, and she could further test his respect for her in how he allowed her to bargain with him in the first place.

"I know he will be executed! But… it's the principle of it! It's the  _ Stark  _ way. I have few chances to try and do things the Stark way."

"Principle," he snorted. "What does a trial matter? He did it. There is no arguing with that. What else is there to say? There are no  _ principles _ like that here. Not in the minds of my people, and not when it comes to his. I suppose ‘the Stark way' is pissing off people in power and wasting time listening to those who don't deserve to be listened to? He especially doesn't deserve it after what he said to you. That was a low blow, and it was difficult for me to not award him my own low blow. Though I can assure you I would not have wasted time with words."

Yes, “his people”. The people of Lys. She occasionally forgot he was a Lyseni due to his dark hair that the Lyrothis were said to have as opposed to the silvery gold that was the common trait of the people of Lys. Which, of course, was a detail of them that Sansa hung onto as a young girl. But then he would look at her with his startlingly pale eyes that she was too intimidated to look at half of the time or he would speak to another of his people in passing. Hearing his High Valyrian in comparison to the others who spoke it was telling of his lineage - musical and sensual. She could likely listen to their dialect all day. But, that was what Lys was known for, wasn't it? Pleasure and entrancing luxuries, including the people themselves. They clearly stuck out amongst the others from Essos, and, much to Sansa's small satisfaction, dulled Daenerys's beauty a bit in comparison. 

"Well, I  _ do  _ have principles and I am not either of you or your people. And I don't know, ser, but I wouldn't have felt right if I had not tried. He is not a good man, and the court will definitely see that, but he shouldn't just be burned alive at the snap of their fingers. They would have forced me to marry anyway, and I would rather help with the North than have him resort to using force. He  _ claimed  _ he would not burn the North, but-"

"How many fucking promises is he making you?!" He demanded in bewilderment.

"- I am not going to put too much trust in such a large claim. You shouldn't be upset for me about having to marry - I will be okay."

"I am not upset. I am irritated that they haven't given you time to breathe."

"I'm touched you care, ser," she said, attempting to mimic his usual smirk back at him, though she truly wanted to smile. 

"Cute," he replied, referring to her smirk. "But yes, you know I do care. One of the few who do care, so you ought to cherish it." 

"I do cherish you."

"Oh, you cherish  _ me  _ now? I said cherish my care, but I'll take it," he said, his voice dropping into somewhat of a purr. 

"Oh, stop," she said, rolling her eyes, much more used to his behavior than she had been initially. "But yes, he seems keen on gaining my favor. I thought it was only for the North, but… I don't see the same in him as I have all others. Not in his eyes. But I have been wrong so many times before and have trusted so many times that I can't trust my own judgement. I have no idea how much I can truly help him with the North, especially since the Boltons hold Winterfell."

"King Aemon is not Daenerys, nor is he a Lannister, or even a Lyrothis. I do not know him to spend his time manipulating others. If he tells you something it is likely to be the truth, and he is not sneaky about his intentions, despite how much time he spent in Lys growing up. So I wouldn't be too paranoid about him trying to trick you. The Boltons are irrelevant. We took King's Landing and we can take them."

"Yes, but you had the dragons as threat. If he brings his dragons anywhere near the North then the North will  _ never  _ respond to him."

Faeron tsked. "You think so little of our men, my Lady."

Sansa sighed, choosing to drop the subject of the Boltons. She knew nothing of battles and  _ that  _ sort of matters of war, so she had no means to support much of an argument.

"When are the Tyrells going to be dealt with?"

"As far as I know they are allowed to return to Highgarden. They have fully surrendered as they did to Aegon the Conqueror and offered information on where others were hiding. The king has no desire to wipe out houses without reason." He shrugged. "Clearly they are a house that follows whoever they need to in order to thrive. I can respect that."

"Yes, they have little loyalty. They are a cunning house. Like the Lannisters, but much less cruel and much less obvious."

"See? I can respect it."

"So Margaery is still here?" She was annoyed at how hopeful she was. She knew fully well why Margaery had behaved as her friend. Still, Margaery was never cruel to her, and Sansa enjoyed speaking with her. It would be nice to see a familiar face that didn't belong to someone awful, and she doubted she would ever see Shae again.

"As far as I know."

"Lady Sansa. The king is requesting your presence in the throne room."

Sansa looked from the man who had breathlessly caught up with them to Faeron in question who dropped his head back with a long exhale of breath. 

"Of course. Can't have a day off, can we?" He grumbled before veering her back around. "Let's go then. See what  _ his majesty  _ has for us today. Let's pray Lady Dragon is off playing with her pets."

"Ser Faeron," she breathed, looking back to make sure the man had gone and was not within earshot. "You mustn't call her such things so loudly."

He brushed her comment off and shook his head. "Been seeing the Targaryens much more often than I care to lately," he grumbled.

"Well, my apologies, ser," she said. "I am quite regretful of the clouds I am bringing to your sunny days."

"Poetic," he offered. "But good. You should recognize the maintenance you require."

She pressed her lips together in amusement as she followed him into the much too familiar Great Hall, breathing in deeply as they approached the king to relax her nerves that were surprisingly significantly less than they usually were. Still present, of course, but bearable. 

Already growing more comfortable in front of the Targaryen conqueror. Lovely. He may be tame in front of her face, but she  _ knew  _ he was capable of brutality. She knew he used force to get what he pleased. He would not have won the throne back otherwise. He was still a Targaryen, and she had to remember that. She had to be cautious. 

"Lady Sansa. Ser Faeron," King Aemon said, perched much less lazily on the throne than Joffrey ever had. "Your brother will be joining us shortly, Ser Faeron."

"Your brother, Faeron?" Sansa coughed quietly, covering her mouth in embarrassment before correcting herself. "Ser Faeron."

"His brother," the king confirmed before Faeron could respond, his tone slightly flat while his face was not at all amused. "The superior and much more respectful brother."

The king clearly did  _ not  _ like her lack of formalities with Faeron.

"By superior you mean less charming and less eager to get acquainted with the women he protects than myself?" Faeron asked innocently and Sansa's eyes widened at him.

"By superior I mean far more adequate than yourself, so much more that the thought of him reminds me of how unfit you are for your position."

"Oh, but I believe our lovely Lady Sansa would fiercely disagree," Faeron said, clicking his tongue.

"Unfortunately there are some things that are out of her control, and I assure you she would get used to the change," King Aemon replied, chuckling darkly as his eyes narrowed with frozen humor.

Yes, a Targaryen indeed. 

"You're not going to take Ser Faeron away from me are you, your grace?" Sansa asked, clasping her hands together as she looked to Faeron worriedly.

"Yes, you aren't going to take me away from her are you, your grace?" Faeron asked in mock sadness, his face pulling into somewhat of a pout.

King Aemon looked thoroughly irritated now and Sansa saw his jaw flex as he stared Faeron down. She didn't know what he was playing at - baiting the king as he was.

"So I will be meeting more of the Lyrothis family, your grace? I've still yet to meet Lady Erena," she said when he didn't respond, attempting to perk up a bit brighter to the king.

"You will, my lady. Ruined yet another one of her childhood fantasies, have you?" the king drawled to Faeron, raising an eyebrow at her acknowledgement of the Lyrothis house. 

Fantasies. Would she forever be mocked for such interests?

"Oh, yes, your grace. I've effectively ruined the image of my house as yours and others have been. Though, they all have been ruined in the  _ opposite _ direction of my own. It certainly twists some plots, doesn't it?"

He was definitely baiting the king. He wanted an angry reaction from him.  _ Why  _ would he taunt him like this? And he was just complaining to her that she had put him in danger!

"Easy to surpass expectations that had already been set so low."

"Indeed. It is also quite hard to come so far from  _ meeting _ them that you shatter the romantic dream of a little girl."

Sansa inhaled sharply in alarm at his boldness, looking back and forth from him to the king quickly. 

"King Aemon." Sansa turned, grateful for the interruption, to find a broad shouldered man that was somehow close enough to pass slightly in front of her just when she had turned to find him. 

She quickly ran her eyes down his form, averting her gaze back to the king when she instantly almost blushed at the sight of the man. He was dangerously attractive in that stupid mysterious way that silly girls crooned about. 

Silly girls such as herself apparently, as she continued to be impressed by all of the new men around her. 

"My lady, do control yourself," Faeron reprimanded mockingly only loud enough for her to hear.

"Lord Maeryks. Pleased to see you return to us. I am very satisfied with your recent accomplishments. The realm thanks you for your services," the king said to him, pulling himself away from his reaction to Faeron. There was a resemblance to his brother, but no sort of lightheartedness colored any of his features.

"Of course, your grace," Faeron's brother replied, his voice deeper than Faeron's and much more serious. 

Well, of course the king preferred the brother that better matched his aloof and detached demeanor. 

"However, I will unfortunately be sending you away again. There are three Stark children that are to be found. I will be sending people with you, of course, but only a few. I am unsure if any of the children are alive or not, but we will assume they are alive until proven otherwise. Beginning with Arya Stark."

Sansa's breath stopped for a moment as she took in his words, her stomach swarming with hope. "You are sending people out to search for my brothers and sister?" 

"Of course, Lady Sansa. I would never simply sweep them aside."

Well, yes, obviously. Bran and Rickon were the surviving Stark sons, and Bran would be Lord of Winterfell if he was still alive. Still, she cared too much about making sure her brothers were safe and seeing them again to put too much thought to any of that.

"Tasked with finding her lost little siblings for her? My, you  _ are  _ aiming to have her completely worship my house."

"Unfortunate coincidences that, believe me, I would greatly prefer to avoid if it weren't in her best interests," the king said in response to Faeron, seemingly speaking through his teeth.

"Coincidences that only prove further how we are the best family all around. Glad we are able to keep up our reputation."

"You believe you can find them, my lord?" Sansa asked Lord Maeryks eagerly, ignoring the other two.

He turned to award her his gaze, holding hers while inclining his head forward. "I can find anyone, my lady, and I say that in the humblest way I am able."

"Humble? Don't buy it. He is less humble than myself."

Maeryks arched a brow as he sized up his brother. "I am afraid that is not at all possible, Faeron."

Faeron frowned in consideration for a moment. "You may be right there."

“Lord Maeryks is well known for his success in obtaining those who have intentionally hidden themselves or are simply lost," the king said.

“To be blunt - he hunts people. No reason to make him sound particularly heroic, as I think you recall our house sigil. Lady Sansa can take it, and the less illusions of gallantry and honor in front of her face the better."

"So you bring back prisoners?" Sansa asked.

"I prefer to not. There are others to do as much. It adds so much burden to bring them back. I find them and I kill them. If they are likely to be found I leave a note as to why their death was requested by whoever sent me.”

Whoever sent him. Meaning he didn't only kill under the King's commands. 

Faeron gasped loudly. "You kill them on sight? But, brother - what of the  _ principle  _ of a fair trial?!"

"You can't kill Summer and Shaggydog if they still have them," Sansa said quickly as the panicked thought crossed her, distracting her from her will to hit Faeron for his mocking. "Arya won't have Nymeria, but you can't kill Summer or Shaggydog."

"Dogs? They can bring their dogs as long as they do not attack me and aren't filthy. I do not care unless the king cares."

"No." She shook her head impatiently. "Dire Wolves. You  _ can't  _ kill them. They are a part of us. They're important."

They all stared at her, and Sansa's worry only grew at the sight.

"Wolves," Maeryks said slowly. "Wild animals. My lady, I understand that the Stark sigil, I believe, is a wolf, but -"

"A  _ Dire Wolf _ ." She closed her eyes. Even if he didn't kill them she couldn't imagine them being allowed in King's Landing.

"You mean the extinct animal that are said to be the size of small horses," Faeron said, his voice doubtful and monotone.

"They aren't extinct," she said, holding back her attitude with effort. "I'm sure you've heard of my brother and how his Dire Wolf's head was sewn to his body."

"Yes, well. Figured that was one of those stories that were exaggerated for song and story purposes and whatnot."

"It wasn't. And they aren't wild aside from Ghost who left Winterfell once he was old enough, and Nymeria who Arya chased away."

They all still stared at her as though she was no longer speaking the common tongue. 

"Just - you can't kill them, Lord Maeryks. Please."

Maeryks examined her with an impersonal expression. "You can't truly expect me to let myself be mauled by wolves supposedly the size of small horses. Not to mention allow these animals to come to King's Landing."

"Dire Wolves belong north of the Wall, my lady," the king agreed, his tone careful.

"But  _ dragons _ belong in King's Landing, do they?" Sansa challenged, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze unflinchingly despite how it hardened back at her.

Faeron coughed pointedly but Sansa only straightened her shoulders. “I apologize, King Aemon, but this is truly very important. They are a part of us,” she repeated firmly. “Each of us.”

“But yours ran away from Winterfell,” Faeron said.

“No. Ghost wasn’t mine. My father always said it was for the child my mother miscarried,” she said dismissively. 

"And your own, Lady Sansa?"

Sansa hesitated at the king's inquiry before inhaling deeply. “Arya’s wolf attacked Joffrey when the Lannisters were in Winterfell, just before we left for King’s Landing, when Joffrey went after Arya threatening her with his sword. She sent her wolf away afterwards knowing Nymeria would be killed if she returned with her. The queen called upon me when they confronted Arya so I could lie for Joffrey. Though it wouldn't have mattered - the word of a prince in comparison to someone in my sister’s position is what is final. Cersei was only testing me. I said I couldn’t remember because it happened so quickly. I couldn't incriminate the prince, but I couldn't incriminate my own sister either as Cersei willed me to. Nymeria wasn’t there and I failed Cersei’s test. So she had Lady killed. My father cut her throat.”

"And the cunt strikes again," Faeron said in disgust, shaking his head. "When is her execution again?"

"Perhaps they can be relocated further North instead of being killed," Maeryks suggested, his face remaining in the same set. 

"No! Please. The Starks are lost without their wolves."

"Yours is dead," Faeron pointed out.

"And you see what's become of me," Sansa said harshly, regarding him coldly, frustrated with him for not being on her side of the argument, not that it was fair to expect him to considering who was involved.

"What is your will, your grace?" Maeryks asked the king.

King Aemon watched her for a while, his eyes clouded and unreadable before he exhaled and nodded once to her. 

"Very well. Do not separate the wolves from the children should you find them. I will deal with how they are managed once you've returned."

Maeryks offered no reaction other than a respectful dip of his head. 

Sansa wanted to kneel to the floor in her relief and thanks, thanking the gods for gifting her a bit of mercy with a king that treated her so much gentler. In that moment she felt she couldn't have even dreamed for better.

"You really do get whatever you want, don't you?" Faeron scoffed.

Her mind instantly pulled forward small memories of her siblings saying the same to her in Winterfell every time her parents took her side or a boy she smiled sweetly at did as she bid. 

She had certainly eaten all of their words, hadn't she?

"Thank you, your grace," she told him, emotion thick in her voice. "You have no idea the importance of your decision."

"I have an idea," he told her. "As you have already pointed out. Sometimes there are exceptions to be made for certain beasts who do not belong in King's Landing."

Sansa felt her head tilt slightly at his words, considering them. The connection between him and his dragons  _ must  _ be very strong of course.

"When will I leave, your grace?" Maeryks asked.

"Take a few days to yourself. Get rested. Then you will come and speak with me for more information on where you should start looking. I will have to speak with Lady Sansa to help with that information first."

"Well, it's not as though he has much to go home to."

"And why is that, Faeron? Perhaps because you bartered off all of my belongings to a pirate as soon as the boats met the shores of King's Landing purely for petty, immature reasons?"

"You caught me." Faeron smirked and shrugged. "Now what would you like me to say?"

Maeryks only narrowed his eyes and hummed.

"Revenge only comes with more revenge. It must be quite difficult never apologizing," Sansa said, frowning at the two men.

"It isn't," both said with matching indifference in unison.

"I can assure you, sweet girl, that it is not at all difficult. Quite liberating in truth. Your grace, I have been informed that you are planning to send my nephew away once more after he has only just returned."

Faeron gasped beside her ear. "You've summoned her," he whispered loudly. "Should have never mentioned her name."

Sansa turned at the sound of the voice and stared at who she assumed was Lady Erena - the woman responsible for her handmaiden and seamstress - as she seemed to  _ glide _ into the room, her steps slow and sure.

And she had thought  _ Daenerys  _ to be adorned.

The dress Lady Erena wore was far more revealing than anything Sansa had been presented with, which Sansa would have not likely believed possible. Her dress was nearly completely black aside from the small amounts of gold threaded into the only bit of fabric that was not completely sheer as the rest of the dress was, the entirety of her stomach revealed and a ring hung from her bellybutton. The sides of the dress dipped low against her hips, and the rest of it joined together only by glittering gold chains that hung across her back beneath her pale blonde hair. A large piece of gold shaped as a snake wrapped around her upper thigh and held a sheathed knife, the head of the snake resting against the top of her thigh.

It was the deep sapphire pendant hanging between her breasts that caught Sansa's eye, as the intricate and finely made chain matched that of both Faeron and his brother's, though their pendants remained tucked beneath their clothing and out of sight should they have them as Sansa assumed they did. The light caught the pendant just right to reveal how the sapphire was hollowed out, a liquid filling the core of it.

_ "With sapphire eyes as dark as night, the venom they carry will end all without a fight." _

Poison.

She would think coming from a noble house the woman would be dressed with a bit more modesty. The other women in King's Landing were surely entirely scandalized.

"I am, my lady. I'm sorry to thieve him from you, but I need him if I want to find the children I am looking for. I would be replacing a certain choice 'knight' with him, but I believe he is most useful this way," he answered her, ignoring Faeron's loud snort at his comment of replacing him.

Erena's lips curled into a smirk and she looked to Faeron, raising her eyebrows. "Are you embarrassing our family?"

"Every day, Erena," Faeron answered.

“I would expect nothing less," Erena said, shaking her head. "What would your mother say?"

"That she would expect nothing less either," Maeryks said.

"Indeed," she confirmed, her smirk growing. 

"Is your mother still in Lys?" Sansa asked Faeron.

"She's dead, love," Erena answered evenly before he could. "It's a terribly long fall from a clifftop to the waters below."

"So… She killed herself?" Sansa asked quietly, watching Faeron's face. 

"My mother did  _ not  _ kill herself." Faeron's words were spoken with more chilling animosity than she had ever heard from him. 

Sansa nodded slowly, her eyebrows drawing together in concern for his anger. She opened her mouth to apologize but the king cut her off.

"Lady Lyria's death was a great loss. She meant a great deal to many people. So many stood behind her in all of Essos," the king said. "Her memory will always be honored, regardless of any possible behaviors her sons may present."

"Ah.  _ Thank you _ for your kind words, your grace," Faeron said, his tone returning back to its usual sound. “We are touched by them.”

"And when do you believe my nephew will be returning again?"

"Perhaps never. I am meant to face wolves the size of small horses apparently."

"I have no idea when he may return, Lady Erena. The Stark children have been lost for some time. Though with his skill I am sure it will be done in a timely manner. Of course your family will be greatly rewarded for your continued services."

Erena tilted her head slightly at the king before looking down in acknowledgement of his words. "Very well, your grace," She said before looking to Maeryks in amusement. "No matter. Even wolves can be easily tangled in a snake's grasp."

Sansa took a moment to process the words as the woman turned before scowling up at Faeron. "Was that meant as an implication, my lady?" She asked, watching Faeron for a moment before looking towards Lady Erena.

"You've made her suspicious," Faeron said, rolling his eyes.

"We would never be that obvious," Maeryks told her dully. "No need to worry there."

"It's good she keeps her ears sharp," Erena said, glancing around the Great Hall. "She'll need it."

"You both may follow your aunt out," the king said, appearing slightly tired after the whole exchange. "Ser Dareth will take over Lady Sansa for now."

Faeron nodded to him before giving her a more lighthearted one as he moved past her to join his retreating family.

"I am sorry to call on you once again, my lady." Sansa pulled her attention from them to the king as he sighed. "But I'd like to see you again this evening. We can discuss your siblings over dinner. I plan on actually being successful in finding them."

"Of course, your grace," Sansa said, smoothing her dress down and smiling at him. "There is no need to apologize. I am so pleased you are putting the effort into finding them, and of course very thankful for your understanding of the Stark Dire Wolves."

The king blinked in response, faltering as he seemed to be taken off by her reaction to him 

"I do my best to understand you, Lady Sansa. I hope to continue to be able to do as much," he told her, his tone soft. "But please understand if and when I have to deny you in the future that I do it out of necessity and not out of my unwillingness to understand."

"Yes, your grace. I would expect no more. I expected nothing in the first place, and you've since given me much more than that."

"You are practiced in flattering those in this castle, I see," he said, the side of his mouth lifting in a playful smirk that took away the threat that his implication may have caused. “Careful not to overdo it.”

"That may be," she said, looking down at her feet as she fought a matching expression before raising her eyes back to his. "But I have been told that I am quite the terrible liar."

His eyes became even softer than his voice had been for a moment and she felt as though she was being dragged down into the dark, violet liquid pools of them - endless and dangerous. She knew she could so easily drown.

"There are only two wolves we should be expecting?" He asked, dragging her back up to the surface to breathe. 

"Yes. Grey Wind is dead, Lady is dead, Ghost is on his own, Nymeria is lost, Summer is with Bran, Shaggydog is with Rickon."

"Two alive and two lost then," he confirmed, nodding. 

"Ghost is not lost. He has always been on his own. He had no Stark to claim him. But I used to see him every now and again," she said, looking to the side as her eyes unfocused when fond memories began to dance in front of her eyes. "Only glimpses. My siblings never believed me, but he was there. He was so sweet as a pup. When Lady was killed I know I heard five different howls. Leaving Winterfell I could swear I saw him running along in the trees. Of course when I tried to show father and Arya he was gone." She blinked away the memories quickly as she realized she was rambling on in a daze to the king of all people. "But yes, your grace. Two alive, two elsewhere."

King Aemon's face was purely curious once more when she refocused her eyes onto his, his mouth pulled into a slight frown. "Thank you for the information, my lady. I would also like to ask you about a few other individuals that were involved with the previous crown. I will see you this evening if you are up to it." He sighed and stood up, rubbing his eyes between his thumb and forefinger. "First I must tend to the matters of Tywin Lannister who I have yet to acquire as my prisoner. Ser Dareth - please." 

Sansa watched King Aemon gracefully remove himself from the Great Hall in impressive silence. She noticed how he seemed to float across the ground just as she initially noted Daenerys to. As masculine and solid as he was, she could only notice more and more the subtle elegance of him. He was perfectly unique in his qualities that contrasted each other, unique and seductive.

_ Seductive _ . She wanted to snort at herself for the thought.

"My Lady?" Dareth asked her patiently, waiting in front of her.

"Yes," she breathed. "May we just go back to my chambers please? I'd like a bath and such."

Dareth offered her a small smile in agreement and she joined his side, pulling her fingers together in front of her as she thought.

"Ser Faeron speaks… Very  _ liberally  _ to the king," Sansa started.

Ser Dareth chuckled, nodding as he squinted up at the sun. "Ser Faeron speaks very liberally in general. But, yes, my lady - he is not at all appropriate when speaking with the king. Today especially. He likes to get a reaction out of people - see how he can test them and find what their limits are. It's what makes him so talented at maneuvering around people.”

“But he already knows his limits, why should he test them again?” 

“He knows his limits, but he doesn’t know his limits when it comes to  _ you _ , or the way he behaves  _ around _ you,” he corrected before going on. "They did grow up together - at least for a large amount of time when Aemon stayed in Lys mostly apart from Viserys and Daenerys who ended up in Pentos after Braavos - so that takes some of the intimidation factor away for Faeron. And the fact he knows how important his family's support is. They have quite a strong following, if you didn't know. Because of their support, at one point Viserys was considering Faeron's mother as an option before she died, as she was not  _ too  _ much older than Viserys for it to be very outlandish. Doubtful that would have been successful, however. The only reason we have their support and full cooperation at all, without the use of dragons, is because of King Aemon. Faeron's mother was particularly kind to the king when he was a child. Many responded to Lady Daenerys's show of kindness and the traditional Targaryen showiness of Lord Viserys, but the Lyrothis house never had patience for any of that. The history between the two families, of course, is quite significant, but they were willing to properly cooperate and offer aid at the request of King Aemon specifically. Had it been another Targaryen I am quite sure they would have put up some resistance, and without their proper support - with the following and resources they have - it would have been much harder for us to win the war.

"So the king was separated from Viserys and Daenerys?"

"For a time. The two moved around. His grace was kept in Lys after they were all kicked out of Braavos, and once he was old and trained enough he began his efforts towards winning the Iron Throne back. By then most were willing to follow him, including the Lyrothis family. Well - Lord Maeryks. Faeron fled as a boy when his mother was killed and was gone for years. He is the older brother of the two, though one would think otherwise. He is meant to be Lord Lyrothis but he refuses his position, and he will be quite irritated with you if you attempt to address him as your lord.” Ser Dareth laughed lightly for a moment. “Lord Maeryks was forced to take on all of the responsibilities of the house all at once without any time to mourn his mother. I believe Faeron feels horribly about leaving that on his younger brother, but you will never hear him admit that of course."

Sansa frowned, feeling upset for both men though disappointed in her sword for abandoning his brother. "Do they have a sister?"

"No. Their father died of illness very quickly after Maeryks's birth and Lyria preferred being a widow. She had loved her husband too fiercely and she wanted no children with anyone else - another reason why Viserys had only wishful thinking. But Erena has a daughter who married young and remained in Lys. Erena and her sister both married into the Lyrothis family, as you could have assumed by the way Erena presents herself, but Erena’s husband died even earlier than Lyria’s. Erena said it would be a disgrace to her sister's memory if she let her sons leave the continent alone, so she left with the boys instead of remaining in Lys with her daughter."

"I'm sure the king is well practiced in the Lysene way," she said, suddenly doubting how Faeron had told her the king did not play games. 

“I’ve known the king since he was a small child, my lady. I’ve tried to nudge him in the right directions, nudge him away from some of the more negative Targaryen traits. There are notable differences between him and his aunt and uncle when he was alive. He may have spent a lot of time in Lys, but he did not adopt their more devious ways. He only learned how to better detect such things. Which is another reason why his aunt fails to have barely any effect on him, as she hardly compares to the people of Lys when it comes to manipulation or seduction or sneaking about. But she does have an effect on others as you've seen, and of course she has her name and dragons to dazzle people with."

“You say he means to test his reactions towards me,” she started hesitantly. “Around me. Do you truly believe he acts very different?”

He had seemed almost… Jealous at certain moments. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge it to avoid feeling foolish, but based on Dareth's words she couldn't help but think on it. Faeron had definitely been provoking him in ways that  _ would  _ make a man feel jealous. Why would he choose that specific form of goading if he had not thought it may be true as well? 

But why  _ would _ he be jealous? She hadn't spoken to him very much, and he had so many things on his mind. She certainly did not stick out in terms of beauty, as so many of the women that he was used to were far more beautiful than she could ever hope to be. How could she ever compete with the women of Lys or what he found in the pillow houses they were known for? She supposed it could be more that he did not like Faeron playing with  _ his  _ prisoner in that way. Faeron had initially claimed he did not think the king had the matter of her being a "possibility" on his mind as Daenerys did.

Sansa's stopped her breath in her throat for a moment as they came to her door. "Thank you, ser. I am sure I will have plenty more questions for you later," she said quickly before he could properly answer her. "I appreciate your time."

Sansa pressed her door closed behind her after letting his reply fall off her ears, leaning her forehead against it and closing her eyes as her head spun, replaying the part of the conversation that had just struck her. 

_ “Viserys was considering Faeron’s mother as an option before she died.” _

_ “She wants to marry the king, and you coming along and being a possibility doesn’t help either.” _

Sansa turned and pressed her back up against the door as she slid down it, burying her face into her hands, hoping dearly she was only jumping to conclusions. She  _ had  _ to be jumping to conclusions, because if she wasn't then surely the Lyrothis family would have come to the same conclusion and would have done something about it.

She would truly never have peace from scorned women.

* * *

"I don't care what she has offered. Just because she is willing does not mean we have to marry her off right this moment."

"The sooner we do so the sooner we can start implementing her connections and seeing which routes will be the most successful." Dareth followed Aemon to his desk that was still a mess of parchment and half-written letters that he had been unsure of how to go about writing properly over his lack of knowledge of the current dynamics and standings of different noble houses. He thought what he knew of Westeros would be adequate enough to make such things easy. 

He was clearly mistaken. 

"She doesn't have to marry in order to do that."

Why was he being forced to talk about the girl again? She had been distracting his thoughts enough. He was the  _ king  _ \- he had other matters to be focusing on. These fucking letters, to start with. 

"For us to begin to see what kind of advantages we truly have with her - yes, she does."

"We would have to sit down and look at her options, and I do not have time for that right now. We may have won, but that does not mean we have everyone under proper control, especially since I have yet to locate the likes of Tywin Lannister."

"Options? Our options are men very, very close to the crown. But we know what the best option is, and you saying what you just did proves as much. Her knowledge is of value beyond only her knowledge of the North."

"She deserves a quiet life, Dareth. We have already had this conversation, and I do believe I told you to leave the subject alone."

Aemon had also been more against the idea the last time they had such a conversation, and the fact that he wasn't the second time around only meant he had grown significantly less reluctant. Had he that little control over himself?

"That was before she offered herself, your grace. She deserves kindness and a place where she can have true input in the realm. She was raised to be a highborn lady, and she was meant for the false king before her father was arrested."

"She may have been raised for such a life, but after all that she has suffered I am sure she would want nothing more than to never have to think of living out the rest of her days in this castle."

"She would eventually become more comfortable. The castle is becoming nearly unrecognizable to what it was. She is already letting her guard down a bit around you. Speaking up more. You are showing her respect and she is responding to it. She was asking me of you, and I have certainly seen her look at you more than once with clear desire on her face."

Yes, Aemon had seen that as well. It thrilled him and made him more smug than he ought to have been in such a situation. He couldn't take advantage of her physical attraction to him and jump on the chance to seduce her despite her own better judgement for herself and who she wished to trust with such intimacy.

But he  _ could _ , couldn't he? He knew how, he was raised around the masters of such things. He could easily make her forget any self-will she had to keep her distance from him.

"I do not deserve credit for merely treating her with common decency," he sighed, choosing not to comment on the rest. He did not want to encourage him, as that would only encourage himself.

"Common decency? The way you allowed her to barge into the court in such a way is not mere common decency, your grace. You know that."

"And I also know how angry Daenerys was about it."

"You cannot let your aunt control you."

"I do not," Aemon growled, his head snapping up to meet his eyes. "Let Daenerys control me."

"You will have to marry eventually either way and it would not benefit you to marry her even if you did wish to," his shield continued despite Aemon's reaction.

"I will never marry her," Aemon said firmly. "But I do not want Lady Sansa to suffer her temper."

"She cannot defy her king at the end of the day, your grace. Arrange her her own marriage. Keep her occupied with her own matters other than obsessing over you. Lady Sansa is surrounded by the Lyrothis house and those who work for them. They are firm about keeping their own ways of certain freedoms and they do not favor Daenerys at all especially, nor did they favor Viserys. They are respectful of you, but that is where their tolerance for Targaryens ends. Lady Sansa has distance between her and your aunt's temper."

Aemon was silent as he pressed his seal onto a letter he had managed to finish. Yes, he knew Sansa would be safer around them, but he didn't necessarily believe her being surrounded by such a house was the best idea either. They behaved in a very particular way, and a way Aemon did not prefer - especially not for her. He had a great respect for Lady Erena, and Lady Lyria when she was alive, but that family certainly ran their lives exactly how they pleased, and they got away with it because they were so fiercely respected and followed by those who were loyal to them that they held power among their people in their own right. 

Not to mention how he wanted to tear out Faeron's throat in the Great Hall that day,  _ taunting  _ him with her as if he had a right, only having such audacity because he knew Aemon would hold back in front of her. Because Aemon had  _ already  _ let himself become so obvious of the fact that the girl had such influence over him. Like an idiot.

But Sansa was his, and he would not allow them to take her from him and make her one of them, make her more loyal to them than him. 

His, was she?

His eyes ran over his handwriting on the papers in front of him without focus as he replayed the thought. 

Yes, she was his. And once he decided something belonged to him he did not accept losing it or sharing it. 

Which also meant he would not approve of her marrying another man despite how he wanted to keep her out from under the stress of power. But what other options were there? He knew himself, he knew his possessive streak, and he knew how politically intelligent it would be to marry a Stark. He knew he wanted her, and that had been confirmed to him when he watched her teeth gently bite into her lip.

He would show her teeth, and they would be significantly less gentle than her own.

"Fine. I will approach her with it."


End file.
